NEON & NECTAR

Night pours itself in colors

too bright to belong to darkness,

neon dripping down the walls

like honey that learned how to glow.

Every breath tastes electric —

sweet, sharp, alive —

a blend of something human

and something the city dreamt up.

Your voice cuts through the haze,

warm and amber-soft,

pulling my pulse into rhythm.

The air thickens around us,

buzzing with the kind of chemistry

that doesn’t ask questions —

it just blooms.

Neon & nectar.

Light & warmth.

Two forces meeting in the half-shadow

where desire hums like circuitry

and touch feels almost digital.

The bass thrums beneath my ribs,

a second heartbeat learning the shape of yours.

Streetlights flicker,

catching the shine in your eyes

like they want to save the moment

in glass.

You lean in —

not close enough to collide,

just close enough to rewrite the atmosphere.

The room softens,

the glow wraps around us

like a secret waiting to be kept.

In the hush between beats,

we spark —

small at first,

then golden,

a warmth that spreads

like light discovering a new language.

Neon & nectar —

sweet voltage,

tender heat,

the kind of night that lingers

long after the dawn forgets our names.