Everytime that my body aches to be near yours to bathe in our naked truth beyond the veil of a jury's stage I grab that ragged old towel of mine, that soft blue towel oversized, standing under the shower just to dry and piece memories alive. Your fragrance hits the pheromonal fest. As I dab this wetness away no, no I must resist the pressure of your lovely face. For the grief, as astounding as ours, dares to persist. I must resist the steps I'm willing to take.