we shame the dead virgins,
get caught in carnal binds behind the reeds
of the dark lake,
grinding old passions into the humid earth
and bury forgotten loves between soil and the reeds,
disrespect the chastity that watches us every night in
the navy expanse overhead,
as blistering ardor wafts up to the sky
and tells tales of brazen and unashamed loves,
vulgar and zealous,
so what the dead virgins once sought
aren't yet forgotten.

do they envy us or condemn us?