It was a note of sort,
a post card maybe that said
all that was in her heart.
She had left home years ago,
a chance to break away and cut her teeth,
out from beneath her family’s reign.
The manipulation had left a stain,
that caused her much consternation.
Her situation was precarious,
and her angst was a serious breech
of the sanity she hoped to find on her own.
But memories were stifling, the weight bearing walls
in her room for one. And now, scrawled across
a dogeared swatch of paper, all that was in her heart.
It said, “I’m sorry!” and nothing more.
©Walter J Wojtanik – 2016