I speak,
but the words fall short of what I feel.
There is no poetry in regret,
only the weight of what was broken.

I see the hurt I caused
in the way your silence lingers,
in how your eyes no longer soften
when they meet mine.

I did not mean to lose your trust,
but meaning nothing
does not undo the damage.

If I could turn time,
I would choose care over carelessness,
truth over comfort,
you over my pride.

But I stand here now,
with no excuse,
only the hope
that your heart might open
one more time.