you are a bottle of pop, with
carbonated sentiments that you can
screw a lid on; you're tightly closed.
refridgerating these emotions
that wait to be tasted, you're secure
inside your flashy machine.
so now, i've paid my dollar and a half
to see you, to tumble you out
so i can shake you like crazy.
when i break your plastic seal,
you'll fizz up and spray out
feeling in all directions.
but i will cover you with my mouth,
my words will swallow the overflow.
you are sticky, but refreshing.
