It is like a hand reaches in to grasp at your heart
That feeling in your chest
It’s not really in your chest, yet it clenches there
And trying to explain it rationally
Simply bunches it under your ribs
It is supposed to be fingers splayed across your brain
Yet it feels in your chest
Where it squirms down into your stomach
And telling it to go away
Means nothing to your throat
It crushes your breath, your heart, your insides
Eyes lighting up upon an object
Eyes lighting up in rapt attention
Eyes meeting eyes
And the feeling is in your chest
But what about theirs?