I hang here thrown to the wilds. There is no reason or rhyme to my condition. I lie still, limp. I watch you walk into the bathroom longing for your white skin against my length. You gaze into the mirror for a moment, a moment I gaze upon you. You are unaware of my needs that abound in my thread. My soft looms imagine the attraction of your velvet body. You undress and I notice all the curves of your blessed terrain. I notice the areas I will be needed most, most gently, and even rubbed the hardest. I engage upon your silken lips, how they playfully tease your pinked flesh.
You have turned the shower on and things wilt and fog with the steam. I feel the dew in the atmosphere as I wait impatiently for the hints of dew from beneath your breasts and the arch at the small of your back. You hum a melody as I hang silent. I would sway to your voice if I could but in all of me, necessity is you. You turn the knobs and the shower stops. I can hear the scrape of the metal against the rod as you push the curtain to the side to exit. As you gently step from the tub I hear my own melody play inside. For beauty as yours should always have its own musical accompaniment. I see your gentle hands, they grow larger. Your fingers are in me, your hands grab for me, and everywhere I feel you. My looms thirst for your moisture drying you to the air hurriedly. Each loom to a drop. You spread your legs a bit and you help me down. All of your scent upon me I yearn to love you without assistance. As quickly as you have grabbed for me you are finished with me. Hanging again, room darkened, I lie wet to want again.