Water, water everywhere.

There’s water flowing, but it ain’t for drinking...

You can hold me or

Toss me o’er

Yonder 

And tell me 

Tall-tales of conquests, if

You’d like.

I suggest you turn

On the nozzle,

And draw me 

A bath, but only

If you’d like.

I’d lay there, engulfed

By an oath between

Ebbing and flowing

And having you over,

Punctured by a salient delight.