You told me you felt lost.
What I should’ve said is, come to me, rest your head upon my shoulder, let me be lost with you, let us find our way together….
What I said was, where are you lost from?
I knew where. I knew you felt flustered with the feelings swirling so fast inside you that you didn’t know what to do of them, that you felt numb by the pace and volume of those feelings. I knew that the spinning made you feel lost.
And I also knew that you weren’t lost.
I should’ve told you. You live in my heart. How could you ever be lost until I decide not to love you? And how could I ever decide that, when the decision never even rested with me? And even if it did, why would I ever decide that?
You are not lost.