They say that lightning strikes are one in a million.

Then how is it that every time

you hold my hand

or stare into my blushing face,

that a jolt,

of pure electricity

runs through our shared connection,

bound in tiny intricacies in our veins,

restless in our hearts,

our minds?

I would love to believe that,

that lightning only strikes at impossible odds-

but I can't,

not while I am touching you;

my own heart is a live wire and jumping into my throat

with the raw voltage

coursing through me-

terrifying,

exhilarating,

breathtaking-

and belies the science I know

will disagree with me.

It can never know

the passion of traveling at love's breakneck speed

believing in someone else,

trusting them to catch you when you burn up

or to push you up when you can't remember the light.

It could never know the terrible loss of energy

when the one you love hurts,

speared by insensitive sparks.

It could never know

life in all its tiny fractured facets,

believing that one answer is all that is needed-

that lightning is impossible to contain.

I laugh at the sheer ludicrousness though-

Me?

A human lightning strike?

ABSURD.

But you take my hand again,

promising so many good moments ahead,

so many beautiful ideas

and dreams together,

and my heart leaps-

flying and flipping in ecstasy-

and I know-

Lightning strikes are one in a million,

and I was lucky enough to be struck by yours.