A molasses kind of love

falling in love doesn’t always happen all at once. it’s not always a lightning bolt to the system, shocking you to your core and leaving you tingly and electrified and stunned. it’s not always white hot, burning you up immediately, from the inside out.

sometimes it’s slow and sweet, like molasses being poured out of a jar, the angle getting steeper and steeper. at first, it’s just enough to get a little sticky. it barely even registers.

until it does. until suddenly, your body and soul are coated in it, consumed by it. you can’t tell where you end and it begins. suddenly, you can’t recall the initial drips without noticing the pour because you can’t remember a time when it wasn’t part of you. suddenly you’re drowning in the sweetest, thickest, richest emotions, and it’s the most exquisite way to go. you’d drown again and again and again, just to taste the sugar.