Feel.

I. Feel. You. I feel you.

I’m feeling you.

You feel me.

You are feeling me too.

I’m feeling like you’re my lost melody, feeling you’re endlessly entrusted with my sympathy, I feel my empathy would heal your pain blissfully.

Feel like those tears you lie with were meant for me.

Well, not for me, but for me to taste the bittersweet imagery of your memories that cause such a woman like you to fall in disarray.

I feel my inability to aid your scenery of a scene of dismay that just played infinitely.

Pardon me, I’d rather just say that the thought of you feeling helpless to your feelings , makes me me feel parted.

Part of me wants to know what made you feel this way, while the other part of me believes that your isolation would help you feel okay. Yet, I feel as if neither is the case.

I feel.

For you.