The blue regret knocks you off your feet, maybe into the thorns and brambles next to the road. The blue regret gives you poison ivy.
The white regret is bright and blinding and makes it hard to look at anything else. The white regret attaches chains to ankles and weights to chains. The white regret is solitary confinement, which all the studies say is cruel and unusual, in that it causes insanity.
The blue regret is around things that can be hidden with effort. The white regret is around that which can't not be hidden. Public versus personal. Man versus self. Firemen versus justice.
The blue regret is as expansive as the sky. The wind propels its little sails into maelstroms of up and up and up. The white regret is a mist that takes the shape of its container and is heavy and hard and makes movement impossible.
In this example, there is hardly any blue. There is some blue, but the white blocks it out, as the white distracts from anything not so white as it. The lines are twisted together, can not be separated, are brothers in bitterness, in paralysis, in deep drowned bones that turn into coral, eyes that turn into pearls, hopes that turn white, plans that turn white, attempts that turn blue, people that turn white, children that are never born, ideas that are never conceived, blue and white wine that turns to vinegar in the cellar.