The place I want to be kissed.

The place I want to be kissed. Some nights I lie on the floor and my hand rests on my neck, feeling how empty it is without anyone there. It feels like it is waiting for lips I only keep in my head. My hijab stays on, but the skin under it warms with every breath. I tilt my head back slowly and imagine soft lips staying there longer than they should. The thought makes my legs open a little, and my anklet slides like it wants to be noticed. I stay still, letting the thought hold me in place, and the room feels smaller as I keep waiting. I imagine a kiss that keeps me there, like I belong to that touch. I wonder if anyone will ever see me like this, wanting the first kiss to begin here, where my waiting lives the longest.