I actually answered this one last year—you can read that post here.

Apparently, daily prompts like to repeat questions—not just tossing out hollow ones. (Not always). Anyways sometimes, repetition forces us to take a look on what’s changed.

Romance, for me, was magic. It was soft and shimmering, full of silent glances and a sense of synchronicity. I believed in the kind of connection that could exist across distance, across time—a knowing without words, a merging of frequencies, a soul-deep recognition. Romance was something that swept me up, made me feel sixteen again, made everything feel lighter.

I still believe in all of that. I still remember what it felt like to orbit someone in that way. But lately, something shifted. Now, romance is laced with seduction.

It feels different. Not less. Just sharper. More alive. Less like something that happens to me, and more like something I choose, something I wield. I no longer wait to be swept away. I don’t sit quietly hoping to be understood. Now, I light the match. I stir the fire. I let myself crave, but I also let myself control the craving.

Romance has become a kind of power. It’s still about connection, yes, but it’s no longer wrapped in innocence. It’s layered with intention, with desire that’s aware of itself. I know what I want. I know the effect I have. I know how to hold someone’s attention without giving too much of myself away.

It’s the kind of touch that leaves me wanting more. Not just the physical—it lingers in my thoughts, settles beneath my skin, echoes in my breath, and haunts the silence long after the conversation ends.

I still romanticize moments. I still believe in the pulse that exists between two people who just get each other. But I’m no longer addicted to the softness. I’m more drawn to the heat—the tension, the ache, the slow unraveling of someone who can meet me where I am, and still surprise me.

So, am I still romantic?

Yes. But not in the way I used to be.

Now, romance lives in the way I say less but mean more.

In the poetry, and the ache between the lines.
In the photo I chose to display.
In the words, I don’t say.
In the thrill of being wanted.

Romance, for me, is no longer just about being seen.
It’s about being felt.

And that, I’ve learned, is an entirely different kind of magic.

Copyright © 2025 - Shimmering Muse.  All rights reserved!