Green

I wasn't supposed to be

thirty-one, rocking

back and forth, sucking

on the ice cubes in my

Sauvignon Blanc

dreaming of a day

when it would be

sunny, and not raining

pouring, actually,

so I'm drowning

while standing straight up

they say, at least the rain

brings green, and growth

but I'd rather take a

stab wound to where it hurts

than live another rainy day

hoping for a future

I'm promised, but am not living yet,

a futile reassurance

a washed out shade of grey