“She Was Sorry” by Birdie D. Stringfellow


She was sorry she had said it,
but she couldn't take it back.
She lost her temper
like a shepherd loses his sheep.
It just wandered off
and got lost in the crossfire.

Anger is the tongue's worst enemy,
and a heart has no protective barrier
surrounding it.
The damage was done,
and the mark it made
was permanent like a Sharpie
identifying a name
on a piece of clothing.

A slip of the tongue --
Get over it --
she commanded.
Although a bleeding heart
that has been sliced
with the knife
flows red like a juicy tomato
ready for the eating.

Her words spilled into his veins
and poisoned his brain,
and there was no getting over it.
She was sorry she had said it,
but she couldn't take it back.