you and I are (broken) bottles of beer:
residues of last night’s affair
sit
inside
(what is left of) us.
these last drops left
untouched
are our souls:
golden
and (almost)
transparent—
capable of producing body heat.
one day,
our souls will be poured
unto the same glass.
and they will become one
as our (broken) hearts float
atop that glass of leftover beer:
the ashes that escape
from lit cigarettes—
theydance in the airfall into place.
but eventually
Literal situation: The persona and the beloved will fall into place.
Interpretation: Same thing. It’s not really that hard to understand. Love is a vice, people are vices, and this just goes to show that people, here, or the beloved are like Sid and Nancy or that, like in Ang Shiu, The Store Keeper by Manuel Viray, humans “are made out of the same soot and silt”, which translates: humans are dirty.
Reaction: I’ve never been a big fan of these kinds of poems. It only sounds like they’re repeating the same themes over and over again. I see no epiphany, no nothing. I’m just being honest. The strikethrough represents my personal interpretation of how this written thing could be salvaged.
Note: No, I’m not picking on anyone. I’m using New Criticism. This is the internet. This is a blog about writing. I’m not that low. At least I took the interest to read it. No, I don’t hate the author. If I did the name would be here or I would have not given the time of day. I do have a lot of time in my hands. This is called constructive criticism. If this were to berate I would have hinted on the syntax. :)
