I know the names of messengers, dopamine, impulses, synapses. I’ve measured every current, every rush and all its phases. But your voice brushes my skin, and the formula comes undone. All my knowledge echoes what your eyes have just confessed. I lose the thread of every theory, and trust the pulse alive in me. I love the blue, it suits me well, it brushes my skin, it holds me still. Beneath its spell, a tender poison, I surrender to its magic. It knows me well, it claims me without holding me captive. I waltz in watercolour, to the rhythm of its calling. I trace a sign across your skin, with my fingertips, no spellbook. You whisper something new my body knows before belief. I say your name again, you answer against my mouth. Love invents another name when our two breaths entwine. By the breath. By the skin. By the salt, by the sound. I summon you softly. You answer with my name. I love the blue, it suits me well, it brushes my skin, it holds me still. Beneath your touch, a tender poison, I surrender to the spells we weave. It knows me well, it claims me without holding me captive. I waltz in watercolour, and our two breaths entwine.
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