ALEXIS MARTINEZ Poet Free verse

Soft Girl, Sharp Edges

I speak in velvet tones,
but my silence cuts cleaner than blades.

They mistake my gentleness
for surrender.
My softness
for something they can press fingerprints into
and leave.

They have never met
the girl who survives quietly.

I do not raise my voice.
I raise my standards.

I do not beg.
I observe.

And when I leave
I do it like winter.
No warning.
Just absence.

My love is warm, yes.
Honeyed. Slow. Devoted.

But my detachment?
Glacial.

You will search for me
in rooms I once lit up,
and find only echoes
that refuse to answer back.

I was never fragile.
I was controlled.

There is a difference.

I learned long ago
that the loudest power
is restraint.

So I let them underestimate me.
Let them think softness means safe.

Until they realize
too late

Velvet can still suffocate.

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