They keep asking which one are you? I wear halos when I’m healing. Horns when I’m done explaining. Some days I’m silk quiet, careful, hands folded in prayer. Other days I’m fire in heels, eyes red, patience extinct. I don’t choose the dark. It chooses me when I’m ignored. I love gently… until I don’t. They want innocence with curves, grace without boundaries, sweet without teeth. But I’m balanced. Blessed and dangerous. A warning dressed as a woman. If you see the horns it’s because the halo cracked first. No permission. No apology. Just truth… standing in the middle.
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