I am not the pristine thing you have made me out to be.
I have sinned, do you disown me?
No,
I am full of lust. Still I remain untouched, that does not mean I want to be.
I have seen things you wouldn't want me to. The human body does not remain a mystery to me.
Yet I can write of love and the making of it as if I am not in fact a
******.