YOUR MISERY IS MY OWN

Your misery is somehow my own.
I haven't adopted it. I never wanted it.
 I haven't seen you cry. Haven't seen not one of your tears dropping into the lake of your solitude and sentiment.
Nothing.
I have never even seen you. Will I ever? Have I dreamed you?
But your misery is somehow my own. It is mine.
Not because I merely sympathize or empathize.
Such words!
 We only meet somewhere unknown and sometimes.
 Rather our souls meet
 In between dreams and reality. Now I understand Lazarus's pain.
 Real irreality. So real it hurts.
I feel your sadness.
No help I can offer to you or myself.
My pain is your pain and your pain is mine.
Not because I wanted to feel it as mine.
But because the pain chose me.
It chose both of us but
Incongruously, untimely and unfortunately.