10. Envelope
Fluent in the sound a zipper makes,
Right before a man forgets your face.
So when the first one offered cash, I took it.
I thought: at least now I'll get something for this.
[VERSE 1]
Some want moans, some want praise,
I fake both and map escape ways.
I never say no—not that I've not tried,
But "no" never lands when a man's got pride.
I give it away so they don't take more;
Let them touch what the silence wore.
I'm not safe, but at least I'm seen.
Even ghosts need flesh to make a scene.
Every move's a loaded bet—
I'm the storm they don't get wet.
Touch like silk, but my fingers scout—
A massage starts, but I'm checking out.
I know what pressure seals the deal.
Say "You happy?" like the smile is real.
I clock the time like it owes me breath,
Then take the envelope and forget the rest.
[PRE-CHORUS]
Leave the envelope in plain sight.
I rewrite my rules just to last the night.
I laugh in time, like I'm part of a play;
One wrong note and he might not pay.
[CHORUS]
My voice goes thin — envelope.
I bend at the waist — envelope.
I fake my laugh — envelope.
I'm out of my skin — envelope.
The ring on his hand — envelope.
My knees on their rug — envelope.
Her perfume sharp — envelope.
My pulse goes numb — envelope.
Crayon art by the door — envelope.
He takes, I fold — envelope.
He leaves the cash — envelope.
I don't come back — envelope.
[VERSE 2]
I walk through hallways paved in lies.
A baby seat near kitchen tiles.
Her lipstick waits by the mirror's frame.
His belt comes off with practiced pace.
I know her name from the thread on the sheet.
Lay down where her warmth repeats.
A child's drawing hangs on the fridge in blue,
The wedding photo watches me bend,
While her smile holds firm and I just pretend.
And I arch where she kissed — like I'm brand new.
The robe on the hook makes my shoulders seize.
She hugged him this morning with arms like these.
Side-eye the fridge—see school notes in red.
His hands pretend love, but they bruise my wrist.
Their picture behind me feels like a witness.
And I fold like the towel she left on the rack.
[CHORUS]
My voice goes thin — envelope.
I bend at the waist — envelope.
I fake my laugh — envelope.
I'm out of my skin — envelope.
The ring on his hand — envelope.
My knees on their rug — envelope.
Her perfume sharp — envelope.
My pulse goes numb — envelope.
Crayon art by the door — envelope.
He takes, I fold — envelope.
He leaves the cash — envelope.
I don't come back — envelope.
[VERSE 3]
One works lanes at the bowling spot.
I see him near aisles, and my stomach knots.
One client has no legs — pays me to talk.
He holds my hand like a prayer on a walk.
Another one pays to see my feet.
Tips for toes, then makes his retreat.
Envelope's thick. The silence is loud.
Some touch soft. Some choke till I bruise.
But I never call cops—what's the use?
"He crossed a line—while I was paid?"
That truth unravels in light of day.
I write my rules like prayers in ink.
But rules don't matter when fear's the drink.
One skips the script and bends me wrong.
He took what he wanted, I didn't fight—
That was the last envelope. I bled that night.
[CHORUS]
My voice goes thin — envelope.
I bend at the waist — envelope.
I fake my laugh — envelope.
I'm out of my skin — envelope.
The ring on his hand — envelope.
My knees on their rug — envelope.
Her perfume sharp — envelope.
My pulse goes numb — envelope.
Crayon art by the door — envelope.
He takes, I fold — envelope.
He leaves the cash — envelope.
I don't come back — envelope.
[OUTRO]
I walk out quiet—like I was never there.
No dent in the bed, no scent in the air.
His world stays clean. His stories stay straight.
But I carry the cracks in a silent weight.
