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Spoken version
A recorded reading of “Velvet and Venom”. If the player does not load, use the original audio source.
You speak in silk— a blade that never flashes. Your voice slips under water, holds me there, gentle as a palm. Love is a cage with feathered bars. Your velvet hand leaves nothing to point at— no bruise, only warmth where it rested. You wear the night like perfume, press dusk to my mouth before rain, name me, then unname me. Velvet and venom, sweet and sharp— a rose with iron in the stem. I sip you slow; the room still leans. Your borrowed crown is the weight I keep choosing. You draw me close and vanish— practice makes perfect. I chase the print your mouth left on the glass, a red ring that will not rinse. Velvet and venom— learned by mouth, not book: gold on the tongue, a grave in the throat. I tally the years by empty bottles, each one humming when the light finds it. Then winter: in a coat pocket, your ribbon, stiff with old perfume. I tie it to my wrist like a saint’s thread, promise a clean break, hear the phone spark, and break anyway. You say you love and you don’t stay. So I build a chapel from small things— lipstick half-moon on the rim, a button, that ribbon. Rain arrives at last. On the sill the ribbon darkens, wicks the weather— a thin red line learning to loosen.
Alternative version
You didn’t need to lie. Your smile said enough. Smooth as silk, sharp as sin. I should’ve run. But darling, I liked the view. You walked in like perfume with purpose. Each step a spell. Each glance a bruise. Every word dipped in sweet and dripping with threat. I wasn’t caught— I was lured. You set the table, laid out your charm like silver, and I fed myself to you with shaking hands and lipstick on my teeth. I told myself you were different. That maybe danger looked like home because I’d only known love as a storm with good lighting. You kissed like a promise. You touched like a dare. And I, stupid with want, let you in knowing I’d never get out clean. Now the velvet’s torn. The poison’s set. And still, I ache for one more night in your venomous grace. Because even ruin feels like worship when the altar looks like you.
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