Welcome to oiling your body.
To perfuming your neck
To cold showers after hot days.
To hot baths before the feast.
To milk pouring into water.
To steam that clears more than skin.
To history that lingers on the body.
And to musk that clings to linen.
To morning light dancing on damp shoulders.
To the night time silks across hips
To being unreadable.
And undeniable.
To the feel of wet dew between your toes.
To violet leaves and crushed stems.
To stories that unfold in scent.
To cleansing the spirit, as well as the sweat.
To the edge of the forest.
To the bottom of the bath.
To salt, tar, roses and moss.
To softness without strategy..
And time that belongs to you.
To leaving the door closed open.
To taking the long way around.
To being both the question and the answer.
To tuberose, nestled in your elbow.
To fingers tracing collarbones.
To the ache of a slow stretch.
To fig-sweet air and sun-warmed sheets.
To steam curling between thighs.
To jasmine at midnight.
To water you don’t rush out of.
To the second exhale.
To watching, not speaking.
To mouths that hover.
To skin that remembers.
To being the one who prepares.
And the one they wait for.
To scent that clings.
To bathing like you mean it.

Welcome to 39BC.