No Judge, Only Regret
A bittersweet kind of poem
No judge, just the echoes of regret, resonating through the chambers of my heart like a somber melody. Each note is a reminder of the choices made, the paths untaken, the moments lost to the currents of time. Regret is a silent companion, a constant shadow that walks beside me, whispering its lament.
A haunting refrain that’s hard to forget, the words reverberating in the corridors of memory. They cling to my thoughts like tendrils, weaving themselves into the fabric of my consciousness. The refrain is a symphony of what-ifs, a chorus of missed opportunities, an elegy for the chances not seized.
A story written in tears and scars, a narrative etched upon the canvas of my soul. Every tear that fell, every wound that healed, they tell a tale of vulnerability and resilience. The scars bear witness to battles fought, emotions weathered, and love that once burned brightly.
No crime committed, just a love lost among the stars. It’s not a transgression that demands judgment, but a sentiment that wandered into the cosmos of possibilities. Love, once radiant, now fades into the distance, its light obscured by the vastness of time. The stars above, like silent spectators, watch as the tale unfolds — a story of hearts entwined, then set adrift in the constellation of memory.
In this courtroom of emotions, there are no gavels, no verdicts, only the echoes of what could have been. Regret becomes the judge, the jury, and the witness, presiding over a case where hearts were once intertwined. And though no crime was committed, the echoes of regret remain, an indelible reminder of a love that now resides among the stars.
