The Chemistry of Attraction
that sensation that grows beneath my ribs,
how your name lingers like a burden on my tongue,
like a supplication I was not meant to utter.
They say, “there’s a science to love,”
fleeting sparks, serotonin hits,
but what of the quiet insanity,
the draw to fire
while the skin is already blistering?
There was no shelter in you.
Still, the absence of thrill never excited me.
What I longed for was the thrill,
the breathtaking freefall,
a heartbeat that pauses
when you’re within reach.
That wasn’t love,
at least not tenderly.
It was a crash.
A gravity-defying, reckless tango,
a desperate need to be destructed
just so I could exist.
You were the toxin,
and I, the accepting artery.
You were the ignition,
and I, the hand that struck the match
merely to witness something set ablaze.
And anytime someone asks why,
asks why we chase
the looming danger,
the shards and ruin,
I’ll say:
it was the closest thing to soaring.
Sip & Support
Beautiful piece
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