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.