An Unknown Love

Elly Murray

She skims her fingers delicately across my surface, sending shivers. Ah, my darling, my only. I think to myself that she must know. How could she not know? But then again, how could she know?

I have no mouth to speak, no limbs to hold her. I can burble, bubble, and babble, yet I cannot speak the words I so desperately want her to hear. Yet, every night I burn hot for her and flow down her back, easing her troubles away.

A few rare times she has climbed gracefully into my domain to ease her troubles in another way. Lying back, moaning softly as I pound over her until she is troubled no more. How could she know?

Rarer still, she has done something that I love even more. She fills a whole basin with me and slips quietly in, easing down into me and letting me surround and relax her. She becomes so utterly still, utterly submerged, that I fear I have drowned her. So fragile, these humans.

I kiss her goodbye every morning as she raises a cool glass of me to those pure lips, and I kiss her goodnight before bed as she rinses out those alabaster teeth. How could she know?

She is so careful not to waste me. Not to use me, abuse me, hoard me, as others have. She cherishes every drop of me.

I have flowed over the bodies of so many, many humans. I have been in them, around them, in their air, in their food. And yet this one, so strange and beautiful; I cannot fathom being without her every day. But how could she know?