It’s moments when I’m doing homework way too late at night, and worship music is playing softly in the background,
And I glancingly think about how I’m not having lunch with you tomorrow because it’s a Wednesday, not a Tuesday or a Thursday,
And there’s this twinge inside and the Thought just rudely pushes past my mental barriers,
Announcing itself and settling and sending its inky self-assured fingers into my heart, where I feel its strength resonate
And I drop my pen and look up and out the dark frosted window in shock, looking for who said those words which pronounced themselves so clearly in my mind,
but there is only my worn reflection staring back, like the words echoed defiantly out of some faded inner conscious where poems are born and die.
“I love him.”
So I shake myself and write some shadowy half-formed unfair sentiment about this gripping proclamation
And then I wearily lift a thermometer to my ear and check my temperature once more
before continuing to copy down my calculus homework from the textbook, unburdened.