I touch your hand I touch your face.
So lovely is this sensation.
I hear your voice but it sounds so hallow when it reaches my brain.
No emotion.
No feeling.
None of the hole of what I feel for you.
Its as if you exist but not here.
No one sees you.
No one feels you but I do.
Why dose no one see you but me?
And why is it that only in my deepest despair that you speak?
Only when I am in deepest depths of depression do we talk to each other.
Only in this pit of self-pity do we converse.
Is it that you are in my mind?
And I only see you with my minds eye?
Or are you even really there my secret lover?
So lovely is this sensation.
I hear your voice but it sounds so hallow when it reaches my brain.
No emotion.
No feeling.
None of the hole of what I feel for you.
Its as if you exist but not here.
No one sees you.
No one feels you but I do.
Why dose no one see you but me?
And why is it that only in my deepest despair that you speak?
Only when I am in deepest depths of depression do we talk to each other.
Only in this pit of self-pity do we converse.
Is it that you are in my mind?
And I only see you with my minds eye?
Or are you even really there my secret lover?
