And the skin tingled with every look.
And the hairs raised at every touch.
Not a single elevation in her chest went unnoticed.
And the tightness in her shoulders
felt like the only thing that kept her standing.
Like a rigid frame
full with a warm thick fluid.

That was love for her.

A state of haziness
and a thick sickly sweet syrup
running slowly through her
and burning her skin
wanting out.

Her body was not the perfect conglomerate of organs
that kept her alive.
Life was coming from somewhere else,
from a tiny part in that always moving chest.

A tiny part that once alerted,
radiates such a heat that melts everything around.
The organs, fibres and bones
melt with the blood becoming honey,
leaving the heart the only one standing.

That tiny part contains the whole universe inside
and more.

It is the energy of the universe.
The one that vibrates, pulses and expands
the more you consume it.
Inextinguishable and infinite.

That is love for her.