You know when you’re tired and cold and maybe a little bit scared. And you force yourself to have a shower because it’s the only thing that makes sense. You can feel the kind of goosebumps that sit just under your skin trying to tingle their way into your consciousness. To trick you into thinking you’re more lonely than you actually are. Like they are pointing out the vacant places. Places that no one else’s loving fingertips have grazed for too many nights.

So you’re there, directly under the stream and you tilt your head back with closed eyes and open mouth. Every trickle of every drop tickling every nerve in every inch of your tired body. And you lean your head slightly to the side. Just a little. Just enough. And you feel the water run down your ear and neck. Pooling in your clavicle then slowly spilling down your chest, following every curve of your body to the gap between your thighs. Engulfed by steam and the tender way it lingers in the air, lapping at the places the cascade falling from the showerhead can’t quite reach. Resting in the sway of your back and the gap in your lips. The warmth engulfs your body completely. And suddenly you’re lost somewhere you can’t explain and all you need is those full lips on the skin between your ear and jaw again.