26/30: What Ifs

I.
I’m sorry I embarrassed you
by calling you out for being
a horse of a different color.
As apology I’ll bring you hay
each day and brush your coat,
check your hooves for stones.
At least you really do look good
in mauve. Your mane is quite becoming.

II.
I have begun to rub off on the people around me.
When I shake hands, a soft peach patina remains.
Joggers behind me slip on freckles like loose gravel.
I repainted the deck chairs the other day,
licked them all a faded coral pink.
It was too late by the time I realized my hands
were the color of dishwater, my irises
the color of windows too often gazed from.

Based on the Fantastical Prosetry Prompt for Day 19 by Kenzie Allen.

Ugh, I feel like the quality of my poems is slipping some days. But, I've almost beaten the 30/30 challenge; I'm not quitting yet!