Smooth talker,
with dancing fingers soothing over
sensitive areas.

It won’t happen again, you tell me.
I’ll make this right, you promise.

Your words, like velvet to my fingers,
appeal to my heart ache,

And I almost forget the past
as angry red scars turn silver
and the past's flame fades to a sliver

Yet like ghosts in a Polaroid,
your past comes back to haunt me.

And I think of the curves of another woman
nestled in your velvet embrace

And I wonder if she believed
your velvet lies, too.