When I Am with Water

I feel the deepest love when I am with water,

Under the gentle cascade of a shower,
Streams threading through my hair,
Flowing over my skin, a tender embrace.

My fingers become caretakers,
Caressing every inch of this body,
Tracing strands of hair draped on my shoulders,
Repeating the ritual, again and again.

Shampoo lathers on my scalp,
A soothing cleanse for a cluttered mind,
Hands moving with purpose, washing away
The residue of a day I did not choose.

Daily clichés and unwanted energies dissolve,
Carried away with the streams—
The dirt, the mess,
A new beginning beneath the water.

And then comes the next part:
After the layers of grime are stripped away,
After the skin breathes freely again,
I clean myself, slowly, thoroughly, deeply.

The fragrance of soap dances in the air,
Foam from shampoo and soap mingles,
Gentle hands reach intimate places,
Touching softly, reverently.

It is not just cleansing—it is connection.
A sacred intimacy that transcends the sexual.
I touch myself, not to arouse,
But to care, to love, to feel whole.

Masturbation pales in comparison to this:
Here, I am present.
In this ritual, water and I become one.
Here, I am enough.

(12/01/2024, this year at its end)