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The debate on glass half full, half empty
obsolete as it is, rages none the less!
The glass balancing the tepid liquid
yawns, infusing bubbly air.
The liquid rises, as if from deep slumber
climbs the slippery walls
spreads out
and dies of exhaustion.
The glass, bewildered
loses balance,
A failed trapeze and then -
Wham!
It falls on its head.
Cracks form and spread in manic speed
till only the shards remain.
The glass bleeding colourless liquid
feels the weight of clinging wetness
Wondering, it is not free,
it is still blemished with
someone else’s desires
poured into it, in measures - half or full -
even in death.
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