CHEMIST

 

CHEMIST 

The thought of you close ignites my skin,
a live wire thrill I cannot name.
I’d never admit how often you drift in—
day folding into night, always the same. I don’t pretend to decode the rush inside,
butterflies breaking like surf against bone.
They ride the current of everything unsaid,
the quiet charge where our chemistries collide. I’m not hunting for answers, and maybe I shouldn’t;
the mystery itself is the jewel I keep whole.
I get quietly drunk on your unguarded light—
your realness, unpolished, still perfectly bold. I won’t step over lines or swear things unasked,
but if your hand turns, if your voice calls low—
I’ll come as I am, no mask, no disguise.
You’re the one holding the spark,
and I’m already inside the glow.