He just gets better and better.
How is it that this shock exists?
This live wire, sparking violently, running its current from your warm body to mine?
How is it that you remain the switch to illuminate the room, give me light to see?
Hot to the touch, burning with life.
How is it that the filaments wound so tightly inside of you don’t create a wildfire with their urgency?
You are the bulb.
You are the switch.
You are the fuse, the plug, the glow.
So how is it that while you make me see so clearly, you are standing
Blind in the dark?