what is the difference between
spilling over and
spilling
open?
is the glass half full?
no, it’s full — to the very brim,
a rim that somehow holds me together and pulls me to the brink,
a ledge to cling to or leap from
somehow too much and yet still not enough
to break through
or break down
a bountiful overflowing of emotion and self
that some(one) can’t wait to sop off the table
whisk it away
blot it up
hide the mess
out of sight, out of mind
but you can still see the stain —
see how it spreads and changes?
see how the blood/wine crimson looks like flowers?
bear witness
watch me (them) bloom
— Charla M. DelaCuadra
Pink&GreenMusings 
I love the imagery of this. I see splotches of paint all the time some days. They can contain universes and galaxies, and sometimes the shapes create the smallest variations of things you see every day, the way we can see abstractions in the clouds.
Here, they’re flowers. Makes sense, as what spills out of us is certainly also what’s in us.
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