[Poem] The Virgin

2009-07-21 @ 12:11 a.m.

It's not a sickness. It's
a state, supposedly
a state of purity
and na�vit�
and grace.

Thus I will remain
until white lace and wedding bells
or until a terrible,
black
sort of death,
until a husband or a stranger.

And yet, the scent of a lover's hair, the
sensation of lips on skin and
twisted limbs ...
I want to know, and I think
it's the not knowing
that drives me mad.