Virgin

Virgin A young lady is dainty in disguise Reading a book of love with that blank look Nothing is prettier than a girl who giggles Underwear lost between a passage of a line Somewhere between puberty and a smile She remains the same unblemished, undefiled And just as simple Like aspirin in a bottle with no pills in it Vacant as the vessel that she is Empty as a bed with no pillow No one around to testify No need to swallow any lies Being void of pleasures There is no shame Vacuous and estranged With the same effect remains Engaged in her perfection Behind mysterious eyes of youth Lust lies, burns inside, untouched Behold the beauty in her red dress Lights go off and so does it No secrets left inside the heart There is nothing left to see of worth Or sacred between the sheets and mattress Or more delicious than a mistress in a sin Soft skin and innocence Little Miss is wrapped in her virginity Wears a red badge of courage on display A mystery worth having if just for pleasure She knows her way around a man Avoids kisses at every twist and turn Into old age where hope evaporates Purity clings on to every pore of her sweet nature Fades, broken, a spell of imperfection cast But still she keeps her socks on in the dark When sleeping Dreaming of extra layers of silk to comfort her To keep her warm, insulated, never penetrated, violated As she pretends to celebrate celibacy like woman might Beauty and body, an image that runs dry A reflection on a lovely vision twisted The young virgin does not exist in every picture According to the people she was with Those who assist her in protecting the perception A celebration, a witchcraft of celibacy A practice of which is just imagined for one day