Magnetism always seemed a silly word,
romance anything but magnetic,
but the force pulling her from within
said the silly one was her.
Inside, she was stirring,
anticipating the unexpected dance,
a dance where time would disappear,
the air a dreamy haze of stolen breath.
She set a hand to heated skin,
air refilling her lungs,
her heart knew the truth of magnetism
—he was near.
©June 2019, Christina Anne Hawthorne