What is a word you feel that too many people use?
So often, mid-conversation,
a sharp “gotcha” lands—
and I assume, perhaps too soon,
you truly understand.
That fleeting word, a fragile bridge,
says “I’ve been where you have been,”
yet doubt creeps in—was it a mask,
or empathy unseen?
Why must we guess what hearts conceal
behind half-spoken cues?
I’m reaching out with open thoughts—
you answer me with clues.
Emojis blink like neon signs,
slang tumbles in like rain.
No full-stop pause for clarity—
just brevity, and strain.
If only we could trade our haste
for patience in the phrase—
to speak in sentences complete,
not fog, but honest rays.
The Writings of Felina Silver 
Leave a comment