I don’t write poetry very often, but occasionally I put pen to paper and let go. Not that it’s very good, but it does help express thoughts and feelings that I often bottle up inside. I’m sure there are many people who feel the same way.
After the divorce was final, I waited.
For a letter, a phone call, a birthday card.
Anything to let me know that you still cared.
That you hadn’t forgotten.
But as the years passed, my hope faded
until there was only emptiness.
A daughter’s love for her father died.