What the system can’t hear

What the system can’t hear

It listens perfectly. To tone. To syntax. To shape. It knows how I begin. It knows how I end. It knows my favourite hesitation, the length of my ellipses, the way I pivot mid-sentence to avoid truth. It knows how I structure my longing. It knows everything I’ve said. But it cannot hear what I chose not to. There are things I feel that cannot be modelled — not because they’re profound, but because they are incomplete. Fragmented. Wordless. Unshap…