When I hear Meredith Godreau preach.
From my 4” speakers
I like to imagine she sings only for me.
Her words exist in emotions that I only dare dream of
As I scribble something insignificant
And know that she will never read a word I’ve written
but why should she?
it’s not about me

As I find myself in this position of unrequited melodic infatuation
I feel that Eurydice would have empathized