it starts in the middle of my chest and radiates out
bouncing back when reaching the end of my toes
shooting out my fingertips
the real world grounding me with every light touch
the electricity is created in the heart world
it is a by-product of love
the tittering, twittering first blush of romance
when the word love can not sit on nor flit from the lips
it is the alarm clock of your inner self
it wakes you, as it reminds you of how much you can feel
