Why can’t I wash you away?

As I turn on the faucet to wash away what you have made me become, I feel my body burning and your gaze piercing through my soul. I let my robe fall from my shoulders and hit the floor, making the same noise my heart did when it dropped the night you left. From the doorway, your wandering eyes are caressing every curve and crevasse of my figure. I dip into the scorching water, burning off all that was left of you. You feel me letting go and decide the warmth of your body against my back would change that as you slowly kiss my shoulder and run your fingertips across my collarbone. I ignore your presence and submerge my body deep into the tub. At the same time, you slip in behind me, pushing my hair to the side and nuzzling your head into the curve of my neck, leaving those dreaded love marks you use to show your territory. Meanwhile, one hand slowly brushes against my skin and then grasps my breast firmly. Your fingers twist and turn at my n****e, sending shivers straight down my spine and it’s making me throb. Your other hand slides down my side, walking it’s way down my stomach. Suddenly you plunge, creating a wave of water making me know that it’s yours. As you start teasing me, I notice your heavy breath on my neck and into my ears. You whisper to me that I will never escape your hold, grabbing my p***y firmly. Then one little nibble is all it takes, knowing what it does to me. My body is shaking as your teasing is becoming too much. I don’t want to add to your satisfaction, but I need you. I feel myself pulsing, and longing for you to please me. The second I accepted defeat, there is a sudden jolt as you fill me. I feel so complete as a rush overcomes my body and I grind down onto your fingers. The water keeps crashing into the side of the tub and somehow escapes, being almost gone now, just like our love. As I’m about to unwind and give myself to you one last time, it all stops. I reach for you and you’re not there. The water is above my head and I’m drowning. Drowning in the thoughts of what we could have been.