Glass futures

Pouring our hopes, dreams,
into this small glass pitcher
Stained, we can't see through

Fulfillment trickles
A thick, sweet nectar dripping
Spills into our hearts

Measured in each pour
The syrup clings, resists us
Dreams inching forward

Our fragile cups crack
From cheers masked as love, deceit
Scared to drink with you

I hear your soft leak,
you steady my shaking grasp
warmth seeps through the cracks.

Our wine long distilled
A liquor that burns us both
Yet we shared a toast

I gave everything
Yet my pitcher fills faster
Together, with you

Into the pitcher
Shared dreams rise and overflow
Two cups hold the world

This poem was written in response to Emily Dickinson's: “Hope” is the thing with feathers. Specifically the idea that an object can embody a feeling. For this poem I choose a pitcher to represent the future (I debated posting a list of explanations to each metaphor but decided not to unless asked). Obviously by the structure you can tell that each stanza is its own haiku, which combined come together into this entire poem. Also it was meant to be spoken out loud, so maybe read it out loud to yourself? Feedback 1, Feedback 2.