Suspension in the Steam

The humidity of the city clings to my skin like a second soul, yet inside this room, gravity has surrendered.
Water droplets trace paths across my chest—tiny satellites orbiting a center that only you can define. My breath rises in silver plumes, drifting upward toward the ceiling where our secrets hang suspended like unsaid prayers.

You didn't come to heal the scars of the day; you came to let them float away into nothingness. Your hand doesn't press down on me—it anchors my spirit while allowing my body to drift in your orbit. In this steam, we are no longer bound by floorboards or expectations.

I smile because I am finally light enough to break free from the earth’s heavy pull. Every heartbeat is a bubble rising toward you, delicate and brimming with warmth. Here, under the soft glow of artificial stars, desire isn't something that sinks; it is an upward motion—a defiance against every weight we ever carried.

Editor: Gravity Rebel