When I say no, it does not thunder,
nor crack the earth beneath your feet.
It arrives like light through stained glass,
soft, holy, impossible to defeat.
My no is angelic—
wings folded in calm assurance,
a hymn that rises
without needing to shout.
It is the hush before dawn,
a star that refuses to dim,
a boundary spun of gold thread
woven directly from heaven’s hymn.
Understand this—
my no is not a blade,
but a blessing.
It saves me,
and spares you from the shadows
that bloom when I betray myself.
So when you hear it,
know you’ve been touched by clarity.
Know that an angel stood here,
and chose truth over pretense,
light over performance,
flight over chains.
And in that choice,
I became untouchable.
I became free.
I became love—
because my no,
when spoken,
is divine–
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