Lightning in My Veins

They sell you this fantasy: the soft-focus sunset, two people holding hands while talking about 'forever,' as if time actually stands still for anyone who isn't dead.
I’m not interested in forever. I’m interested in right now—the kind of moment that hits like a voltage spike to the chest. For three years, I played it safe with men who were basically human spreadsheets: predictable, stable, and boring as hell.
Then came Leo. He didn't offer me flowers or poetry; he offered me silence when my mind was screaming and coffee at 3 AM because we both forgot how to sleep in a city that never shuts up. He’s not 'the one,' because I don’t believe in destiny—I believe in chemistry and well-timed decisions.
Standing here on this rocky stream, with the sky tearing open above me like an old dress, I realize my wings aren't for flying away from life; they are for carrying all the beautiful baggage we both brought. He told me he loved my 'chaos,' but let’s be honest—he just likes that I don’t follow his script.
He is waiting at the edge of this valley with a look in his eyes that says he knows exactly how dangerous I am, and yet he wants more. It's not romantic; it's primal. And frankly? That’s the only kind of heat worth keeping.

Editor: Sharp Anna