Two magnets holding on
they won't ever let go
fit together so perfectly,
every groove aligned. Every broken shard, painful
and sharp when alone
somehow compliments, strengthens the unison.
(With every minute) they pull each other in closer
continue to intrigue and enchant one another
until they're all the other can see.
It's not possible to be near them and
Not feel their pull
And wish to be part of something magical
even though it might just be science.

These magnets, so perfect, so fitted.
And between them (so close to invisible)
a piece of tissue-paper
so fragile
almost not there
covered in creases and tiny rips
Holding on.
Maybe not holding on
so much as letting the magnets
hold it there.
Hold it together.
Keep it from falling apart (further).
Despite the tiny holes it tears
in its skin
to remind itself it still exists.

But no matter what my nature
I cannot help wishing I was not a tissue
but a magnet, too.
I was not keeping you apart
in such tiny, almost unnoticeable (but not quite)
ways.
I think of pulling away
every minute you get closer.
But the same force that holds me together here,
if I left,
would rip the heart out of me.