What Is This Feeling?

The intimacy of her fingers around my hand

Arouses a feeling that I will never understand.

My brain commands me to focus on my surroundings,

And my body is solidified in terror somewhere beyond Alice's wonderland.

I am afraid of losing control,

So I continue to play the role.

But the unfamiliarity of this innovated idiosyncracy

Is overwhelmingly crucifying.

From my dictionary of well-known emotions

None that I elect fit the election.

So now I have a question:

What is this feeling?

My body gives way,

And from my brain it seems just too far away.

And when my brain screams to it to keep awake,

My body doesn't respond,

So away they both break.

I can't cry, I know it's not even worth a try.

I can't speak, my throat and the words are dry.

Her hand is holding mine,

But there are no words that I can use to describe

The terror of not knowing how to find the light

To shine and give me a clue.

Is this what they call "coming out of the blue"?

The question remains unanswered:

What is this feeling?

It's not a comforting but a terrifying kind of warmth;

A menacing, unwanted kind of unknown.

What kind of warmth makes you struggle, freezes and confuses you, is not in the winters nor is it offered through a blanket?

What kind of warmth enjoys being unwanted?

No, this is not it.

Will I ever get this excruciating question answered?:

What is this feeling?