White Is for Virgins

In my new white dress, and I’m cringing

His too-eager fawning, I feel my face singeing

Skin-crawling in bare legs and tiered lace

The ceaseless pets and pokes, invading my space

His eerie giggle, it’s like a hyena’s cry

Like prey I grow rigid, I don’t want to die

It’s getting close, I feel the echo of its warble

Too soon I’d be held down, and pressed into marble

He’s snatching at lace, to him it’s pure play

But in this white dress, I’m the hyena’s prey

Frozen with panic, trapped between demure and demise

Soon I’d be hurling invectives in protest, like the wild prey cries

Suddenly I remember, my legs are so bare

I yank my head away as he starts stroking my hair

I get flushed and start thrashing, as he coos

I wonder if his weight upon me will cause me to bruise

Then a forced embrace, he wrestles me to the ground

I’m straddled at the groin, and by his weight I am bound

Curious onlookers may have spared me a glance

But no one cared to help me deter his advance

Struggling in his grip and spewing bad words

My angry demands to get off me still go unheard

That white lace, it starts to ride up my thighs

A sinister flicker of delight I catch in his eyes

I’m still fighting for freedom, quickly averting my gaze

He cackles in amusement, and the pitch grows with craze

Pinned to the floor I can feel his thighs, sturdy and hot

But he wouldn’t get off me, no matter how hard I fought

He pushes me down harder, I struggle in fits

Bone into ground, bone shatters and splits

I crack at the elbows, I crack at the hip

If I were ground into dust, at least it would loosen his grip

Writhing in shame, dying to hide

Pinned at arm’s crease, arms forced to my side

Red face hovering, maddened with glee

A searing thought, that I will never be free

An endless chortle spews from his lips

I feel that primal stirring, a small fire between my hips

He lets go and I’m breathless, and I pull down my dress

I hurl one final invective as he tries to caress

I shrug it off and try to console myself, maybe it's not real

So there is nothing to think, and there is nothing to feel