"where we come from"
They called it spin the bottle,
but we bottled the spin—
held our breath in glass,
caught youth like wind in a tin.
Circles on carpet, nerves in a coil,
truth or dare served on teenage foil.
She looked. He blinked. We all pretended
the bottle chose fate, not what we intended.
A soda bottle, half-full of fizz,
mapped out destinies on a lark and a wish.
Lips were currency. Stares, confession.
Each turn a sermon in adolescent procession.
But I spun nothing—I sealed it shut.
Grew older with tight-lidded gut.
Anticipation was a potion we sipped,
carefully measured, never fully tipped.
Bottled the spin—not just a game’s end,
but a metaphor we wore like weekend skin.
Some kissed. Some cried. Some fell away.
All of us bottled the spin that day.
And now, glass echoes with laughter dim,
as reflections cling to the bottle’s rim.
We never really let it decide.
We leaned. We watched. We lied.
So here’s to the circle,
but we bottled the spin—
held our breath in glass,
caught youth like wind in a tin.
Circles on carpet, nerves in a coil,
truth or dare served on teenage foil.
She looked. He blinked. We all pretended
the bottle chose fate, not what we intended.
A soda bottle, half-full of fizz,
mapped out destinies on a lark and a wish.
Lips were currency. Stares, confession.
Each turn a sermon in adolescent procession.
But I spun nothing—I sealed it shut.
Grew older with tight-lidded gut.
Anticipation was a potion we sipped,
carefully measured, never fully tipped.
Bottled the spin—not just a game’s end,
but a metaphor we wore like weekend skin.
Some kissed. Some cried. Some fell away.
All of us bottled the spin that day.
And now, glass echoes with laughter dim,
as reflections cling to the bottle’s rim.
We never really let it decide.
We leaned. We watched. We lied.
So here’s to the circle,
and the floor’s slow turn—
not where the bottle points,
but where we come from.
not where the bottle points,
but where we come from.
.
-
Author:
crypticbard (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: August 8th, 2025 02:56
- Comment from author about the poem: Trigger Warning: This post may contain references to sensitive topics (e.g. self-harm, violence, trauma, mental health struggles) —reader discretion is advised. Disclaimer & Waiver: The content herein is provided for general information and entertainment only and does not constitute professional medical, legal, psychological, or financial advice. No professional-client (or other) relationship is created by your access to or use of this content. By reading, sharing, or otherwise engaging with this post, you acknowledge that you do so voluntarily and at your own risk, waiving any claims against the author, publisher, or platform for emotional distress, injury, or other damages arising from your use of or reliance on this material. If you require professional guidance, please consult a qualified practitioner in the relevant field.
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 19
- Users favorite of this poem: sorenbarrett, Soman Ragavan
Offline)
Comments8
Several readings and several takes. Layered metaphor where an innocent game becomes much more. The authors note a clever means of introducing deeper meaning that I did not catch on first reading. Destiny and free will involved in that spin and to see which would win. It might as well have been roulette of the far eastern variety. A very clever write that despite the losses of youth commands a strong air of nostalgia with its melancholy
It seems a tenuous sort of rite of passage for some life changing for others just merely part of the landscape of growing up. Thanks Soren🕊️🙏🏻
You are most welcome my friend
We played this in some of the homes I was in, sometimes for fun other times with a more worrying reason. Sometimes the consequences where horrible, damaging and far reaching, for some the effects were felt long into adult hood, nicely crafted write
That's exactly the feel that I was going for. So glad that you got that on the get go. Thank you kindly 🕊️🙏🏻
You are very welcome
Doh! I'm unlikely to get to the deeper layers. Well, do a bit of thinking then, says Fido to me!
I'm the guy who spun the Russian Roulette gun and thought we had to leave ONE chamber empty. Oh dear! lol.
How’s the trigger finger though? 🤪
ah' the games we play and the outcomes we spin on .. in a world that is becoming increasingly more less punctuated nearly everything almost is not what it at first might seem to be probably .. its the searching wot is most fun and then the findings become almost irrelevant .. I thought this was pretty cool
So true Nev, at least we don’t really ever go it alone, Mateship’s is still alive and mostly well. 🙏🏻🕊
Powerful work.
Thanks Thomas. Good to see you around 🙏🏻🕊
Rik, this is rich with nostalgia...but sharpened by truth. You’ve caught that mix of innocence and quiet manipulation that lives in those teenage games...don't we all know. 😏 The bottle wasn’t chance—it was choice, and you nailed that unspoken reality. Beautifully crafted, my dear friend. Hope all has been well while I've been gone. 🌹🖤🙏🕯️🐦⬛
Hey, Titto, almost a week on the dot. I was expecting you to be back in a day or so, so this is quite a pleasant surprise. Just a bit tired over here but getting there. Hope you're doing well. Thanks for asking after me. 🕊️🙏🏻
Many messages within these fine words arqios.
Andy
Very powerful dear arqios 🌹
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