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
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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