It just rained.

The sky is pale blue and
the wind is surely pleasing.
I might just think that the weather is perfectly made for me.

I see some tables and chairs,
some drinks and snacks,
some variety of people
I only see during this time of the day
and only during this kind of weather.

It's 6 PM and
it's almost as dark
as the deepest of the night.
The sky now is indigo blue
and the moon is already peaking.
It's smiling.
And god, what I'd do to smile like that.

I see drinks, I am holding a cup of rootbeer
while my friends hold a cup of red horse.

We talk about life, and how scary it is to live;
we talk about ending it, and the many ways we could consider trying;
we talk about enduring it, and how strong we are to have ourselves survive 'til today;
and we talk about staying, just because we're still here.

Though we're barely breathing,
we are here,
and just like the moon tonight,
with the cup of rootbeer in my hand
and with the cup of red horse they have,
we are smiling.

It's almost 8 PM and
the wind is still as pleasing.
It's touching my skin
and
it gives me a different feeling.
I see hands holding a grip to its last cup of beer;
I see eyes looking down, sleepy;
I see eyebags which I guess I can say as deep as the night;
I see crooked teeth;
I see imperfection.

Though we are as imperfect,
we are smiling,
we survived,
we're on our way home
with car lights reflecting on our faces.

We wave goodbye to the bottle of beer for two and my rootbeer.
We made it through the night.

I always hear you call her name.
That young, aesthetically-made woman you've always admired.
I hear you call her everytime.
You call her name in a whisper.
It's like you are slightly asking the wind to deliver her your whimpers, just in case it would pass by to her house,
or in case it would whip past her beautiful face.

Everyday, I hear her name.
Every night, you'd go insane.

Not a day would go by in this time
will I ever forget how your voice shrieks
when you blurt out her name.

I love how deeply you feel about her.
I love how your eyes sparkle when you think of coming out to meet her.
I love how just by hearing her name makes your knees weak.

I'm sorry but whenever I hear you call out her name,
I only remember my pace right even before she came to race.
I never went away when you decided to bring her close,
just because I know in myself
I would have to get used to it day by day
hearing you actually call her name.

And hearing you call her name,
this may be sane,
but with me,
will you ever be the same?

Splash!* The ocean goes.
Hitting that big, old stone.
That create such beauty
in a form of a sound
that is more likely a melody.

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
The waves call for me.
How thrilling it is to hear it shout my name,
for what calls me now
is what thrills me.

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
The wind starts to whistle,
making me dance alongside the water.
My toes are being embraced by the sand
from which I am tracing on.
I am loved.

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
I move closer
to hear each whisper.

The vast emptiness of this large body of water
may **** me,
but why do I choose to let thee?

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
I am scared but hell, do I want to know?
For what purpose does it murmur my existence?
I am scared
yet it embraces my name.

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
I conquer my fear.
I learned to love
what loves me
but hell, do I really know?
When it could actually **** me?

"Madelaine! Madelaine!"
The vast emptiness of this large body of water
may **** me
but now I choose to let it be.
For I am loved
by the sound that the ocean makes.
I learned to love
what loves me
that will only eventually **** me.

and I swear, the moment our skin touched,
I felt it burn
like it was all wrong
and invalid.
I watched myself turn into ash.

I live for the roads at night
for the moon only shines at it as bright
as the light posts in the streets.

I live for the lights at night
for the dark won't remain as black
as the souls that are awake.

I live for the silence at night
for the minds are as quiet
as the sound that your eyes make when you blink.

I live for the entirety of each night
for the night doesn't remain as dark
as how the word 'night' sounds.

I live for nights like this
for the souls may be as dark
but the light will remain the same.
Shining upon the dimlights
each and every one of us chose to blame
for our dark souls.

Love,
I'm troubled.
The four corners of my room
no longer provide enough space for my thoughts.
I feel the need to evacuate my mind.
But our house,
rock-built,
never enough to stand still.
My thunders could only strike it down once
and its walls would crash as it's done.
It was never capable,
never capable of being called home.
I ran.
I ran as fast as I can,
along my journey
I found you
my long lost human.
You lend your arms
as if it was a four-cornered room like what I had before.
But it's completely different now.
Your arms could only extend to its limit
and yet, it feels like it could shelter me.
It's enough to shelter me and my thoughts.
Your two arms,
muscle-built,
always enough to provide me home.
The home I only had now.

I speak to you as if I am the pen
and you, my partner
is the paper.
My ends continue to touch you
as the story goes.
There, you stay still
and wait til I finish
yet neither of us wants us to diminish.
I am the pen,
and with you, my paper,
no story will I ever let be abolished.
I will continue to write.
Every drop of my sweat will be worth it,
because as I continue to write,
we continue to live.
I will continue to write
not only your story,
but also how I came up with yours
and how it perfectly goes with mine.
How I,
the pen,
the writer,
continued to write,
continued to live.
In my heart,
I am the pen,
the writer,
and never will I ever let you die in my works.