Velvet...

The ripe, plush, blushing of a lush fruit. Undulated with precious juice, hidden behind the skin

Whole...

Not a bruise, nor a spot of softness. Can be seen on the outer layers

Yet the inside is rotten

Pierced.

The first time is never the last. As sweet steel breaks the virgins' pain.

Slashed.

Into regular pieces, The cutting of soft flesh.

The peach withers away

Existing.

In silent despair. As she bleeds.

What has become of my body? Has it been eaten? Or is it left to decay like me.?

Rotten.

Left to die. The peach is broken. But the core remains whole.