The Question I Hide

The room is dark but for

that blue light,

the glow of a screen

that won’t let me rest.

I type the question

that feels like a secret

folded tight inside me,

the kind that would crack

if spoken aloud.

Rain drums a slow rhythm

against the window,

tapping like a nervous hand

against the sill.

The search results blur,

words washing over me

in waves too strange to name.

My eyes ache, wide open,

a witness to something

I’m still not sure I understand,

the quiet weight of a question

that will not let me be.