First Real Apology

The screen glows dim against my face—

thumb hovering, heartbeat loud.

Words I never thought I'd write,

a bridge built with trembling hands.

I confess the sharp truth, the jagged edge,

and before I hit send, the room

folds inward, heavy with regret.

No armor now, just bare skin

and the weight of a word: sorry.

The silence after, a breath held

between two broken spaces,

where meaning leaks slow and honest.