Manifest

I don’t carry pain like a designer bag.
I don’t flaunt it—
but every morning, I touch it,
deep beneath my ribs.

No tantrums.
No bathroom sob shows.
No begging for salvation.

If you love me—
don’t dare to leash me.
Don’t try to kneel me.

I walk naked through the thorns—
no chains,
no masks,
heart wide open,
teeth bared.

I won’t shrink to be loved.
I’d rather burn as I am.

I won’t be tamed for tenderness.
Give me wild,
or get out of my forest.