velvet and venom
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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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Some cravings survive long after the danger does, leaving the body to remember what the mind already knows was poison.
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At five in the morning, desire whispers a familiar name even while every scar remembers exactly why wanting is not the same as safety.
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Softness was never the same as harmlessness; roses have thorns, pretty things have teeth, and survival taught her how to use both.
Between Bruises & Blooms 