The chemistry of love. They study it in laboratories. We experiment every day.
There is a nerve that runs from the stem of the brain all the way down the neck, through the chest and deep into the abdominal cavity. It has been named Vagus, the wandering nerve – for the way it meanders through the upper body, the way it passes behind the ear and traverses the nape, before it roams across an aching breast, and lodges in our depths.
This winding nerve connects a watching mind with waiting matter, innervating skin and viscera on a current that carries pure sensation back to the brain. It exists as the darkest blue river on the map of the human heart.
Because it also traffics the most potent of drugs through our system: oxytocin – the love molecule. When we touch, when we arouse, the Vagus nerve fires and releases this chemical through-out. It works to solidify the experience in our memory, to soak the brain with feelings of trust and devotion toward the object of our stimulation.
The trickle turns to flood when we make love. We make love. We construct it through every caress, through the contact of skin against skin, the fix and lock of eyes when we coalesce. Fight and flight give way, we want to stay right where we are, suspending the heart in a liquefied chest. We have always been the creators.
You are both the source and the flow for me. You have traveled my pathways, wandered all through my terrain, trapped in this nerve from the first time we touched. The feel of my own skin is now the memory of yours.
I feel and I remember. An alchemy wrought each time we lay down.