Liquid (Poem & Behind-The-Scenes)

 

Liquid - Poem by Greta Stone

This poem was written from a daily prompt hosted by Tasty Poem on Twitter.  The title is the prompt word. ❤ See more frequent posts on Twitter (text only) and Instagram (with graphics).

You pour
your liquid
heart in
my hands
and storm
when I
fail to
contain it.

~Greta Stone

 

Behind-The-Scenes

For some reason this popped into my head as soon as I read the prompt.

your liquid heart

When I think of liquid, I think of how it fills whatever shape of the container it’s in. A heart that molds to its surroundings could either be a good thing (stronger, more adaptable, harder to break) or a bad thing (constantly changing, unpredictable, following trends.) A lot of my poetry this year has been positive (mostly sex-positive but still positive haha.) It’s raining today. And will be for like a week. So I’m feeling the negative. Gonna go with it.

So I’m about to rip into this someone with a liquid heart. I have to figure out how I play into the scenario. Maybe I want the heart to mold to me and stay. Maybe I’m the caregiver/enabler for a friend or romantic interest who constantly changes their mind, loves unpredictably, and finds themselves without “a container.” Maybe it’s my own damn heart I can’t get control of. *ponders*

*still pondering*

Well, the first “maybe” is a bit cliche. So that one’s out. Actually, any of them could be cliche, depending on how I write them. I’m leaning toward the caregiver/enabler route because that is totally me. Pouring doesn’t really work here. Melting just came to me. A melting heart is a bit cliche too but I’m going to go with it and hope I can bring my own spin.

You pour
your liquid
heart in
my hands
and cry
when I
fail to
contain it.

…the hell did that come from? haha Kinda felt like I went in a different direction there but it literally just poured out of me like that. (See what I did there?)

I’m also pleased with the ambiguity of the relationship. You know how much I like ambiguity in poetry. ^_____^ 

The weak spot in the poem is cry. I want to find something better. I head over to the thesaurus. I come back with lament. But I’m not sure it’s strong enough. And I’m not sure whether I want that grievance aimed inward or at me. Lament is an inward anger, regret for personal action taken. I think I want the anger aimed at me. More like blame. I search the thesaurus for blame, accuse, scoff and land on scorn. Yes! That’s it.

You pour
your liquid
heart in
my hands
and scorn
when I
fail to
contain it.

I’m not sure if I want a me after scorn but I decide against it. Then a friend recommended storm and it really brought the whole thing together.

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