The Weight of a Four-Letter Word

Blue light cuts the dark.

My phone, a small, cold pane.

Your name, then the single word.

'Fine.'

A four-letter wall.

The lie, perfect and smooth.

Like river stones worn by endless current,

hiding whatever drowns beneath.

I typed back, 'Glad to hear it,'

a lie for your lie,

the way we keep the fragile peace.

The way we survive.

Or don't.

The silence stretched after,

heavy as damp earth.

And I knew

you weren't.