The Color of Regret

I wore no scarlet coat today,

Yet shame draped itself across my shoulders,

A silent garment stitched from hurried words

And meanings I never meant to send.

I thought truth traveled lightly,

Like a bird crossing an open sky,

But truth without care can strike

Like a stone thrown through stained glass.

So I stand here gathering fragments,

Turning each one over in my hands,

Searching for the moment

When understanding slipped away.

What is pride worth

If it leaves another heart bruised?

What victory remains

When kindness is the first casualty?

The distance between intention and impact

Can be wider than oceans,

And I have learned that even honest voices

Can cast unintended shadows.

I cannot gather back every syllable,

Nor erase the sting they carried,

But I can offer what remains:

A sincere heart and an open door.

To the one who felt the wound,

Know this—

Your light was never the target

Of my imperfect expression.

You are still the song in the morning,

The color that refuses to fade from the canvas,

The reminder that grace survives

Even after misunderstanding arrives.

If forgiveness chooses to visit,

It will find me waiting,

Not with excuses,

But with gratitude for the chance to grow.

And should tomorrow bring a better conversation,

May we meet there,

Not as opponents standing apart,

But as travelers who learned

That compassion is the shortest road home.