The Velvet Trespass

I sinned in silken spirals, slow—
like rivers learning where to go,
like embers tamed by winter’s hand
that pressed my pulse to understand.

You whispered first; the match was lit,
a quiet game, a measured wit.
Your words—like serpents, velvet-lined—
unlocked the orchard of my mind.

I crossed the gate for sweeter crimes,
for hands that read me like old rhymes,
for fear I’d never dared to speak—
soft, then cruel, then wild, then meek.

So here I stand, the willing thief,
a sinner draped in molten grief;
yet in your arms, I found release—
we trespassed once, and called it peace.

Written by Rhythm Tan
From the Still Poetry House archive