Favorite night.

Raining.
The drops hitting the pavement of the dark alley.
The warmth of the jet black leather jacket is the only thing offering warmth,
Aside from the occasional puff from a "lucky strike".
Standing, propped on the brick wall of the pub,
Looking out at the people running to their cars,
Or watching umbrellas unfold into the buildings across the street.

Coming out of my hiding spot,
I flick the lucky to the floor and put it out.
Looking up and down the dark street,
Up and down the bright neon lights,
Up and down the faces scrambling for cover,
I push off of the wall.

Sliding my hands into my pockets,
I decide to walk down the street,
Enjoying the the scenes of couples under umbrellas,
Guys getting kicked out of bars,
and the nice cool rain,
Hitting the pavement of the city.
Enjoying a night I rarely get to spend.
A night, that makes everything else worthwhile.
A night, that allows me to forget her.