Immersion

Like coming home to a steam...like coming home to a salty immersion in warming waters...like feeling the capillaries open as the heat glides against me and opens up pores and sends the goose-bump shiver across my entire body.

Like a weight passing away from me, like a headache that suddenly vanishes.

Like an Elton John song line that reminds me of how wonderful life is while you're in the world.

Like the squeeze and slipperiness of soap as it is clutched and slid across warm glowing skin.

Like the scent of soapy bubbles, some escaping into the air, and delicately glazing flesh. 

Like a wrinkled finger, long under water in a bath of heat.

Like a candle of some type of scent burning away in a distance, a slight scent cast that reminds me of when you used to brush by me and then were gone.

Like the feeling of being cleansed...of being nude, not naked, art...not function...delighting in the curves and slopes, the arcs and angles that are so solely unique and unmapped...exploring, thinking of exploring...discovery...fortunes.

The underwater collision of your feet against mine.

The slight sweat of you in a heat of water and proximity.

The stretch of you to reach for a glass and sip in a steam. High color in cheeks, hair pulled up in a tail.

It is the settling in, the downward slide, the slope of descent, the crave of a crush, the relaxation of my mind and my body as I let the sugars of you slowly swirl and slowly suspend as they fall as gentle rain...perhaps gentle snow...against the heat of me to melt and dissipate like rain on fire.

And cool me with the colors of you as I immerse myself in a moment...when I imagine that you might be near me.  

Floating.  

Immersed.

Brushed.  Glanced.  Touched.  

Even if only in the caverns of my imagination.