tell me how to bottle up a sound.

would I wear it as perfume,
let the world know I am doused in poetry, and dissonance, and coffee grinds?
or would I dare risk it wafting into the stale, unworthy air?
perhaps I’d wear it ‘round my neck,
never to open and relive the wonder,
only to hold close against my soul,
to feel its magic seep into my skin,
a home to return to
when doubts creep in through my ribs.

tell me how to keep it with me
forever.

- p. winter