The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide

Still Waiting For the Real Me.

Every time I think of you 
My heart is crushed
My heart is bruised
From all the hell you put me through
I can't see anyone falling in love with you.

Every time I close my eyes
I hear the sound of my own cries
Holding on to what's not real
I know I must not really feel.

Every time I go to sleep
I shiver at the thought of you
And when I should be counting sheep
I lie awake in fear of you.

Every time I think of this 
I see the scars on both my wrists
And you're to thank for all my falls
The reason for my many walls

Every time you touch my skin
I feel as though I'm giving in
To something that's not meant to be
Still waiting on the real me.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2009

Poem

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A   Avatar
May 10, 2016 at 8:54 PM
Angela, you have a great way of expressing yourself through poetry, XOX ~LINDA~
A  Avatar
May 7, 2016 at 12:48 PM
angela, this is an awesome poem, thank you for sharing. *SKAT*
Brown Avatar
August 24, 2009 at 4:34 AM
Thank you for sharing your splendid poetry with us today Angela. Wishing you the best always in your writing. Love, Carol
Kendrick Avatar
August 23, 2009 at 3:44 PM
Interesting. Keep writing. Sara
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The Whiskey Taster’s Flavor Guide
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace