A girls beauty only exists as an extant form of a decay
The ****** gets down on her knees
to pray
that God delivers her a good good man
to come, and demand, for her hand in marriage
A girls beauty will never exist as long as her lips haven’t tasted true love’s kiss
her legs are long and bare and
her face is rosy, fair
and that silky hair can be wound around his rough calloused fingers
The beauty of girlhood is being used
Desiring love and being pursued
And if he doesn’t think I’m beautiful? Do I have any worth at all?
Lost innocence is a beauty (a sweet sweet tragedy) so utterly unattainable, (only for those girls with their blue bell eyes and their waif-ish thighs) I’m left to wonder
am I even a woman
at all?