Velvet & Venom
Where desire grows thorns. Poetry of dark romance, temptation, obsession, intimacy, dangerous devotion, and the beautiful things we know better than to touch.
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Funny,how ghosts never knock. They just find the window,press their palms against the glass,and call it curiosity. I wonder what you came looking for—a confession,a villain,proof that the storyyou were handedstill fits neatly in your mouth. Careful. Poetry has teeth. And some gardensonly look beautifulbecause you cannot seewhat was buried beneath them. You may read…
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Seeing them again makes the heart remember softness for one second before reality answers with the distance that ended it.
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The same door remains, but the woman behind it no longer mistakes hunger for love or scraps for a meal.
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She was willing to stay through fear and mess, but love could not survive being the only person still reaching.
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One morning she stopped checking for the name that never appeared, and the phone finally became an object instead of a graveyard.
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Missing her later does not erase the silence that taught her what absence weighs when love refuses to show up.
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She had already furnished a future in her mind before realizing she was the only one still carrying the keys.
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The goodbye arrived so slowly she mistook it for distance, until silence had already taught her how to live without them.
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They returned after the door had already changed meaning and loneliness was no longer enough reason to let them back in.
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Some cravings survive long after the danger does, leaving the body to remember what the mind already knows was poison.
Between Bruises & Blooms 