Bottled Me: The Juice of My Soul
They tried to bottle me once,
In glass too thin for storms—
A cap pressed tight on childhood dreams,
Labeled neat in scripted norms.
Inside that jar, I shimmered bright,
A brew of chaos, calm, and gold.
Some laughter, loss, and dreamy nights,
A heart that never could be sold.
There’s glitter from a youthful wish,
Some tears from when I fell apart,
Ink stains from all the poems I wrote,
And love that stitched my broken parts.
A pinch of rage, a dash of peace,
Some stubborn roots that won’t let go—
The juice of joy, the pulp of grief,
The soul you’d only sip to know.
I am not shelf-stable stock.
I fizz. I foam. I sometimes burst.
Don’t twist my cap and take a gulp
Unless you’re ready for the thirst.
So if you see my bottle glow,
Don’t ask me how or why or when—
Just raise your glass, unseal your soul,
And let the juice begin again.
🍊 Let the Sparks Fly! 🍊
This poem is my entry for the Sparks Fly Contest under the theme “Bottled Me: The Juice of My Soul.”
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