The Bottom of the Glass

There's a care-free - care-less? side of me that pours the wine

And toasts to you - to us. We are happy. But there is also a side -

- an exposed nerve that is struck with each can's opening crack

Burdened memory begs, "Are things as good as they seem?"

I hastily gulp my wine to drown the doubt. I say I'm fine. 

We? are? fine? Logical Thinking looks for a way out, 

Edges of the lies stab from the inside-out
My breath reeks heavily of doubt
Another glass tells me it's okay

The pain pretends to go away

But 

my 

memory 

can't help 

but maintain

every reminder from a sopping wet past.

There is no way out from the bottom of the glass.