When intimacy goes deep enough, there's no distinction left between your body and mine. This is what it looks like when two people stop pretending they end at the skin,lungs flowering in synchronized rhythm, organs intertwined like root systems reaching for the same water.

The artist renders vulnerability as abundance. Everything hidden becomes garden: pink lungs bloom like peonies, intestines coil golden as honeysuckle, the ribcage opens not in surrender but invitation. These mirrored figures face each other with their entire interior lives exposed, decorated in the language of growth and decay, of things that flourish in the dark.

This is love as total permeability. The flowers aren't metaphor,they're what happens when you let someone see the raw machinery of your aliveness and they meet it with tenderness. When you breathe together long enough, your insides start to look the same. Beautiful, baroque, impossible to tell where one ends and the other begins.