Neurobiology Of Love

Entry by: jaguar

16th October 2018
True Love

If, as
you claim, you’re just
a stain on my nervous
tissue, what colours do you make
in me?

The words
I use talking
about you are blooming,
fresh, exaggerated orange
plumes, springs.

between us shows
black, I suck, it implodes
in a crimson tide, dissolves us
both pink.

All my
so critical
social assessment dulled
networks detached, sulking grey voids,

circuitry lights
up yellow bulbs, zingers
of unbearable happiness,
true love.