"The Biology of Us"

"The Biology of Us"

"The Biology of Us"

Before words were carved in stone or song,

Before the first fire sparked against the night,

Our bodies knew—deep in the ancient code—

That we were never meant to walk alone.

Not just to breed, nor simply to survive,

But to hold, to touch, to gaze and feel the hum

Of something deeper than the pulse of blood:

A signal glowing in the neural dark—

Dopamine, bright as a starburst,

When your hand brushes mine by accident.

It’s chemistry, yes—oxygen and flame—

But meaning, too. Oxytocin spills

Like honey through the veins when you lean close,

And the world, so sharp with its edges, softens.

Stress dissolves. The amygdala quiets.

I am safe. I am seen. I am known.

This is no mere craving, no fleeting fire—

It’s evolution’s tender, shrewd design:

To bind us, heal us, lift the weight of being,

To make two hearts beat stronger than one.

In your arms, cortisol fades to dust;

In your breath, I find my homeostasis.

We call it love—this urgent, soft collision—

But underneath, our neurons sing a truth:

We need each other not just for joy,

But to live. To breathe. To be. To stay.

So when I kiss you, trembling, slow, and sure,

It’s not just passion—though that burns as well—

It’s survival. Sacred. Written in the cells.

You are my balance, my reward, my breath—

My body’s answer to the ancient call:

Stay. Belong. Be loved. And live well.