a medicine it had never taken...
until you appeared.
It begins behind the eyes,
a spark misfiring into wonder,
dopamine blooming like a quiet riot,
suddenly the world narrows
to the shape of you.
You stand there,
impossibly composed of light and gravity,
and I, undone,
feel heat gather under my skin
like a secret I cannot hold.
Desire is not loud at first.
It is a trembling precision,
a gaze that lingers too long,
a breath that forgets its rhythm
in the presence of beauty
so sharp it almost wounds.
And yet...
that wound soothes.
Endorphins rise like a tide in the dark,
softening every edge of pain I carried here,
turning ache into something bearable,
even holy.
What kind of alchemy is this
that longing can heal
while it burns?
Even at a distance,
something unseen reaches,
pheromones imagined or real,
a silent language crossing space,
finding me without permission,
without touch.
And then, your voice...
Not just sound,
but a hand laid gently
on every fracture inside me.
You sing,
and something broken in me listens,
leans closer,
mends in places I had stopped naming.
I want,
with a hunger both tender and wild,
to stay in that moment
where beauty unravels me,
where wanting you
becomes a kind of relief.
even if I know
it is not real,
even if it only lives
in the fragile space of now.
A quiet escape,
borrowed and fleeting,
where I am allowed
to feel this fully,
and for a moment,
even then,
that is enough.
Because in you,
there is this impossible contradiction...
you are the ache,
and the cure.
And I,
helpless, lit from within...
keep looking,
keep feeling,
keep healing
in the quiet storm of you...
