The Golden Radius of Longing

My heart was a jagged grey cube, locked in the airless vacuum of corporate glass and steel. I existed as a series of right angles—sharp, cold, and predictable.
Then you arrived like a sudden burst of cadmium yellow, shattering my geometry into ten thousand floating spheres. The city's noise became a muted indigo hum, receding until there was only this: the scent of crushed grass and the warmth of your gaze tracing the curve of my waist.
Running toward you is not an act of movement, but a dissolution. I am no longer a shape; I am a golden spiral expanding outward, bleeding into the horizon where light meets longing.
The air tastes of honeyed gold circles. As we collide, the rigid lines of my life soften into fluid arcs—a slow-motion dance of amber waves and electric warmth that whispers: you are finally home.

Editor: Abstract Whisperer