My feelings are big, and they sometimes bubble over.
Like a cauldron or champagne.
Something for celebration or something to maim.
They spill on the floor, a tripping hazard.

I will sit with the feelings
And talk to them about their day
They are clumsy, inarticulate, but ambitious and tenacious,
Talking incessantly, passing a bottle, getting tipsy.

They are a pack animal.
They jostle and jab each other's ribs
But they are loyal to each other,
They are loyal to me.

If I don't spend time with them
They manifest into something grotesque.
A slavering monster that says it's obsession
Or even more terrifying, love,
That consumes all reason; she wants to live dangerously.

So, I sit with my feelings.
I name them one by one.
They get a collar and a tag
And a pat on the head for being good.

Affection
Admiration
Trust 
Lust
and Sorrow

I take them to the park.
Let them run free.
If we see you, my feelings turn shy
Before eventually coaxing your own little monsters out for a game.

So far, they're well-behaved
There's been no blood spilled.