When you yell at me, it hurts so much inside,
like a knife, dragging through my insides.
I try to yell back, my voice goes unheard,
so I don’t even bother,
I just retreat to writing poems, that hopefully will be heard.
I pour a glass of wine, sweet to my liking,
a passion for the drink I am thriving.
Each glass better than the last,
I am opening up slowly to write about my past.
Your presence goes un-noticed, with every glass I pour,
I wonder if you’d even notice if I walked out the front door?
Every sip makes me care even less, about the fight we just had,
I don’t even care if we go to bed mad.
And as I sit and wrote this poem, my mind free from anger,
what will tomorrow bring, will this fight linger?
But what do I care? I have my freedom drink,
how much lower must I sink?
Into a stupor, I have sunk,
I can’t even think straight, for I am D-runk!
What were we fighting about again? My mind begins to wander,
I am growing tired now, aching for a slumber.
I’m out of wine now, I have no other reason to be awake,
except to tell you how much my heart aches.
I wish you’d respect me, for the woman I am,
instead of yelling “God Damn!”
I am who I am, it’s not like you didn’t know,
from the time we started dating; you make me feel so low.
But this glass of wine is teaching me,
that I am me, I am free,
to say what I need to say, nothing more nothing less,
I am me, and for that my family can attest.
I’ve let people walk all over me,
letting them have more than what should be.
But I’m done with that, at least for now, for this drink has set me free.
I don’t want to be addicted, I won’t let myself go down,
but can I make myself feel better, without being drowned?
With my glass of wine beside me, I feel like I can do anything,
but I wonder, does this poem mean anything?
To me, it means that my mind is free,
to feel and say anything,
my heart is sad, my mind is mad,
Is this really me?
By now, I feel like I’ve said too much, how will people judge me?
For now I don’t care, because my drink is beside me.
But tomorrow will bring the answers I seek, as angry and truthful they might be,
but for now, I have the one thing I need, my glass of wine beside me.
© Rene Bennett
YOUR FAVOURITE POEM
SENT IN BY YOU WHAT’S YOUR’S?