Quicksilver Poetry

Choice stolen,
It’s rarity increased.
Dreams broken,
So you hold tighter
To the ones that remain.

Virginity a concept
That your worth
Can be stolen away.
That you can be so much less
Because another touched you
Implies that you were less anyway.

Picking up the pieces,
Trying to heal,
Realizing that nothing
was removed,
That it is perhaps better
To put together me
My own way.

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