White, the colour of her unseen clothing,
As invisible as it may be, only a few are left to see it,
The realness of her innocence and purity.
The cleanest of water cannot purify a soul,
A body is left to linger in its dirt and mischief,
Some are left with a lifetime of convincing themselves,
That it was all worth it.
I know of a girl, who holds freely unto a blossom,
A creation of innocence, the only vision left
In a time when fruit unnaturally ripens and flowers are sprayed to life.
“Chastity, the new revolution” he reads on a moving bus,
He laughs to himself as he thinks of his world of cheap nights and sites
As the word ‘chastity’ bounces out of sight.
