Innocence woven into cotton, pulled down, stretched and snapped.
Fingers trailing, tracing and leaving flesh branded by hot fingertips.
Fabric forgotten and crumpled on the floor, replaced by a fine coating of goosebumps dressing milky white skin.
Air thickened with sticky, salty secrets, hanging around like a morning fog.
The filtered light through curtains highlights the place where virtue meets experience and the cotton, now misshapen tells a tale.