She Who Burns Without Mercy busy Live4Evil

I am not the question.
I am the answer unspoken.
The yes buried under centuries of no.

They named me danger.
For I met the eyes of men and never looked away.
For I touched the sacred skin of my own body.
And let no voice call it sin.

When I enter, I do not ask to be seen.
I am known by the shift of air.
The rise of blood. The breaking of silence.
I do not tempt — I choose.

And when I reach for flesh.
It is no surrender. It is selection.
A coronation, placed in the fire of my hand.

You may touch.
But only where the flame has kissed.
You may taste, but only if I have opened the orchard.

I am not the fruit.
I am the hunger that made the fruit appear.
I am not the offering. I am the altar.
Not the candle, but the match that dares the dark.

I am not to be taken.
I am to be met, as equal, as reckoning.
As the storm that comes with her own name

They say women like me are fire, but they forget.
Fire does not burn without consent.
And when I burn, it is not to destroy, but to reveal. 

So bring your wanting, but bring it ready.
For I am not your conquest.
I am the echo of every woman who rose unbowed.
I am Lilith and I rise by the heat of my own desire.