For a lack of words you make me feel.
For a lack of better words you make me think.
For better words you make me ponder.

Out of words you make me question.
Out of words you make me feel like I'm dreaming without a care.
Out of words you make me write poems of you with knowing you might not understand or stare at me like you use to do.

In reality, it's you who I question to feel,
to think, and to ponder if I wasn't even really there to say so.