The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Head Games

I called you.
I texted you.
I said I was sorry.
I waited and left you be.
Now you finally text me.
After I turned myself inside out to set you free.
I already gave up on you see.
I finally excepted you would never love me.
So what what do you want from me.
To play with my head, give me hope, and then set me free.
Nothing is ever real.
Only what I feel.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2021

Poem

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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace