The phone buzzed a wordstring small

The phone buzzed, a word-string small,

'I'm sorry if I...' then a pause.

A careful fence, to catch the fall,

of blame, ignoring all the laws

of real regret.

That 'if' it hung, a tiny hook,

designed to miss, to barely touch.

A shadow in an open book,

meaning nothing, or too much

to matter.

It wasn't for me, the words were sent,

a conscience cleared, a debt unpaid.

A smooth-edged stone, politely lent,

a small forgiveness, never made.

Just heard.