Feeling

It is a curious feeling. 

It creeps up on her and hugs her tightly from behind when she least expects it, refusing to let go.

It steals her breath and kisses her pulse, leaving no trace save the sudden weight that presses upon her heart.

It is pain and happiness and sadness.
It is lust and grief and anger.
It is hate and love and mourning. 
It is hope and regret and longing.

What is it?
She stares into the mirror, forcing herself to meet the eyes of that which looks terrifyingly alike yet nothing like her.
She does not know these eyes. 

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