Not a smell, but something similar,
A need to connect and learn more,
Fooling myself, like a detective story,
Sending me on paths of justification and outcomes.
Perhaps it is not,
Some figment of imagination,
Or fantasy to serve my ego,
Satisfying an appetite for tasteless food.
Like the physics experiment of iron filings,
Attraction cannot be seen or touched,
Only felt, however unreasonable it seems.
Not just instinct … there is more.
Unseen but present.