Velvet Rope and Bone

The city breathes in neon sighs, a concrete altar under bruised skies

We make our oaths with steady hands, not on a book, but on stolen lands

A velvet rope, a bone-white knuckle, the distant sound of a buckle

A deal is struck with eyes, not lips, a partnership of sinking ships

You learn the weight of a family name—it’s heavier than guilt or shame