When it is in the glass,

It swishes like water

It smells like the sting of a clean wound

It flurries around the glass, breathing in the air around it

It is only 4 inches tall, but it is a skyscraper

It nurtures, it creates life where there was once barren land

It fills stomachs with an ounce,

It breaks things, like other glasses, other people

It feels like a fire, lit inside the wet of the throat

It burns the way heartbreak does,

As if the physicality of the pain is a shield,

The 2 ounces of liquid in front of me feel like a windstorm.

Nurturing me, feeding me, protecting me,

But in the end,

All that's broken is the glass

And my heart.

This poem is about: 
My community
Our world
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 


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