Our chemistry is not your mama’s old science fair project
It’s the real deal
There’s enough chemicals between us, Einstein would blush
The air crackles when we’re near
The slow burning hiss of complimentary compounds getting too close to each other
No test tube could contain it
The combination of his touch and my lust creates a small explosion
He waits while I sleep it off
I wake only to find that I want to explode with him again and again and again
Conceited Crusade 