The Virgin

January 9, 2009
Plump, plush and pink
She walks with grace
Speaks not of what she thinks.

The virgin rests within the grass
Calling out to sunshine
This day shall never pass.

Night falls about the city
Pressing her breasts between her blouse
Her innocence is such a pity.

He greets her in the summer heat
Seductive beneath the stars
Grasps her hand and kisses her sweet.

Daisies grow about the floor
She wakes this morning
Face powdered, no more.

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