He don’t gotta speak loud
His spirit makes me stand at attention.
His presence commands respect without asking.
All it takes is a look, and I already know.

He ain’t moved by chaos
he commands atmosphere,
shifts temperature with intention,
grounds me when I drift.

His leadership isn’t performance 
it’s a lifestyle,
rooted in consistency,
anchored in purpose.

His confidence doesn’t seek approval
it comes from knowing
who he is
and Whose he is.

We don’t argue.
We don’t go to war,
his hands already disarm me.
He touches my waist like he knows
both my boundaries and my breaking points.

When his lips meet mine,
we don’t just kiss
we ascend.
It’s a communion.
Breath and spirit exchanging vows
without words.

I smell him before I see him.
Not just cologne, but familiarity.
He’s been here before.
And even when he’s gone,
his presence leaves fingerprints.

His voice?
Low
Controlled
Intentional
He doesn’t lead with volume
he leads with weight.
And somehow
submission isn’t a task
it’s a response.

He is not loud or boisterous
he is the calm storm that brews beneath the surface.
The type of man you don’t see coming
but feel in your bones once he arrives.

He don’t flinch when storms come,
he is the stillness that follows them.

He protects me like his peace depends on it.
Protects our seeds
like he knows they carry both bloodline
and blueprint.

He doesn’t just see me as his woman,
he sees me as answered prayer.
A living yes.
A promise kept.

I don’t compete. 
I consecrate.
There’s holiness in how I hold myself.

I carry our legacy in my womb
but also in my mouth
in every truth I speak over us
in the way I show up
and stay.