Red and White - a Moulin Rouge poem

Her body was sold to another
In an undeclared lease,
When the Rouge became her 'home'
And she was paid by men to please.

Red peccadillo's stained her lips;
Her soul, her heart, her mind.
Harlotry became the glamorous life
And she left the real world behind.

But the crimson of love was still there,
Hidden though it might be;
Too busy being swept up in a world of
Sex, diamonds, and beauty.

The white of innocence was gone
As quickly as passion had been ruled out.
Then a young writer entered her life,
Loving her with no shame, no fear, no doubt.

Opposing was her wits
And dubious was her heart,
Though when days of singing and loving took over,
She found herself falling apart.

Purity blossomed forth again;
The black started whitening in turn.
But naught could ever stay ideal,
Was the lesson that was enforced to learn.

Jealousy, anger, betrayal;
The happy days lessened from few to none.
Fighting life against vitalities
Was what their love had become.

Red for the whore she was,
When she accepted her filthy living.
But reflecting also the romance she held, that
She had never thought worth giving.

White for the prostituting chastity
That she became infamous for.
As well as the juvenile virtue she possessed,
That hadn't been permissible before.

Red and white:
The Diamonds colors when she lost it all.
Dieing in the arms of her love,
Watching her cry out, suffer, and fall.

She was gone.
She died given the chance for love to be tried.
But in the end, with her poet defeated,
Was it really she that had died?