Liquid Denial

The golden mug that I hold dearly,
          Is a venue of my anguish.

The sacred chalice that I grasp,
          Is filled with more than tears.

The purest tankard in my hand,
          The theatre of my pain.

The demitasse within my grip,
          Holds the harvest of my hurt.

Some may choose to dump their cup,
          I'll not toss mine away.

I have always taken misery,
          With a side of joyous toast.

I raise my glass to approve,
          Before ingesting my emotion.

"I'll drink to that", my words ring out,
          As I drink my tortured potion.

                  
                      ~Billie-Jo Renee'~