Green

Right now everything seems green.

My stomach.

My bones.

Even the arteries in my heart.

The doctors are green too,

A greedy green.

They don’t care that its consuming me

As long as they can keep me alive enough

To pay them green bills

With the green poison in my veins.

This green won’t let me be blue.

At least not the blue I want,

You know, the pretty, deep kind.

The kind in beautiful tears,

The kind that inspires art,

The kind that boys and girls long to stare at.

Instead I’m that kind of blue you drown in

But when my dad smiles at me,

Worried about his little girl,

I can still feel a purple haze of happiness.

The one that smells of summer.

It is our color,

And sometimes it clouds the green.

But then when it’s mixed together its just

Brown.

And not like chocolate

But like mud.

And that is when things feel heavy,

The weight of the world

The earth

Bearing down

A brown stained reality.

So I splatter it with pink,

and red,

and yellow,

and orange.

Just for kicks,

Just to keep things interesting.

That’s when suddenly life looks like candy,

Or flowers,

Or sunsets.

That when life speaks pretty words

From lipstick lips.

Underneath it all, though,

There is still green,

But it’s simply a layer of paint

On a canvas

That does not define the painting.