[A/N: The first line is 'to everyone who needs it' and that's what it means. You may not relate to it, it's not for everyone; it's only for those who want it.]
To everyone who needs it.
If your body is a temple, then it needs pleasure. If you love it -- your body, that is -- and it must be cleaned and kept, you need to touch it, you need to get it touched. Temples that don't get cleaned crumble.
If your body is a pure white rose, it needs some rain to stay white. Your body isn't pure if it is starved. White roses die if they're left alone.
'Keep yourself sinless,' they tell little girls. They told me. They told me and I listened. 'Don't do anything to it that you wouldn't do to a church'. I nodded.
But when the orgasm feels like brass bells that break the silence of the morning, I suddenly disagreed. Doesn't god love song? Can't I sing in the choir?
Can't I give my own temple a single chord?
Some little girls are curious, disobedient, and they ventured and the found the field of white roses long before I did. I'm a little jealous, yes, having been kept away so long, but then I remember every little girl, every little girl, some seventeen, some twenty, running across forests, searching for it and the blessing seems more real.
I found this field of pure, white roses; I want to share it with you. At least make you a flower crown. You deserve every little petal. You really do.
My body is sacred because my body is mine. My body is pure because my body is mine.
And I shall do whatever I want with it.
