I gave all that I was to withhold what we created,
but nothing filled that clear glass of ours,
which we both secretly peered through
but ignored what was lingering on the other side
The reddest of wines could not cloud the vessel
to shield our eyes from our sad reality
nor stain it enough to conceal the denial we housed
Water was all that was poured into this goblet,
wishing it was made from precious crystals,
as an effort to cleanse what was
to prevent what inevitably is