My Virginity Is A Burden Iv Missax [top] May 2026

I want to lay it down. Not dramatically. Not in a poem. Just quietly, on some Tuesday, with someone who doesn't want to take it but simply be there when it falls away like a cloak I never needed.

Missax — that ache you left unnamed. That scar shaped like a question mark. You taught me that virginity isn't innocence. It's just unlived life crystallized into a single fragile fact. And facts, when held too long, turn to stone.

But gifts are not supposed to ache.

Here’s a piece written in a raw, reflective, and deeply emotional tone, as if spoken from the inside of that feeling.

Because a burden, even a sacred one, still bends the spine. my virginity is a burden iv missax

They call it a gift, this thing I carry. A ribbon of waiting. A lock without a key yet turned.

And I am so tired of standing so straight just to prove I'm not broken. I want to lay it down

And now it sits between my ribs—not pure, just unused . Like a letter never mailed. A song never sung into a microphone that might crackle back.