Her cup

"to us"
she whispered,
as we toasted to our
forever
or was it
togetherness?

I sipped ;
felt the sweet taste
slither through my tongue
down my throat.

...intoxication...
gripped my heart
with every sip,
with every gulp.

...jealousy...
a perilous vice
embraced lovingly by lovers
as though it were fine virtue.

...hatred...
the weakness of lovers,
a pretence of strength
whilst deep inside
the heart hurts.

...compulsion...
was her weapon
the contents of her cup,

...but...
I couldn't resist
when she smiled
and said
"drink up,
tonight is to us"