My birthday
Comes in March
When the skies
Hold hope

When warm sun glides
Above still naked branches

I didn’t get drunk on my 21st birthday
But that has no bearing now

I’d like to rewrite those handful of years
The ones after 21
When I anchored my life to alcohol

In my own mind

When I was drunk
I was accepted
Sober I was not

I built a persona around
The accepted one

Because I was always safe
Behind the bottle in my hand