All relationships have a 'current' that pulsates on-and-off.

There’s a buzz in the air;
Crackling, it sizzles . . . whips mean.
Something stings unseen . . .
My vision wavers, hinders my decisions;
I cannot refine what I cannot define.
Is my itch . . . him? Shall I replay our film?
When he’s gone, there’s elation. See discontinuation?
Alone . . . I gain more power by the hour;
Less in tune with the loon.
Love, benign, forged me into a mime.
I’m wishing, dreaming, for freedom that’s missing.
There’s a buzz in the air;
The spark--loves electricity--
Shorted wires on me.
My vision restored . . . no more indecision.