My Bottle

Kaitlyn Lohr

My heart is a bottle made of glass.

Whenever feelings claw and tear at my throat

Instead of letting them free

I push them into the bottle.

Sometimes, however,


I get angry

When a dog barks too loud or when the door won’t close right

I turn red

I try to push the anger into the tiny bottle

But then the bottle cracks

And breaks

And all my emotions

race through my body.

I erupt 

I lose myself.

My hands stiffen

My eyes blur with tears

And I noiselessly cry

And loudly sob

And softly weep

Until the bottle is empty

So I can start filling it again

And close myself up like a clam.