Such things we are made of;
Dark, heavy, intense things.
We long for something to pull ourselves towards, into another where we meet.

Together, we click.

With the slightest attempt at setting ourselves apart, the Tension feels hard and resistant to that comforting touch.

The longing for that electric connection becomes the indignation of the hardness pulling away, that tension no longer present.  No remaining feeling of magnetic chemistry, pulled farther and farther apart until forgotten entirely.

Such dark, intense, and lonely things we are.