It’s always happy hour
when you’re sad
my despair manifests
as a bar that never closes
bottomless bottles
to celebrate bottomless grief
the infinite plummet
without the crescendo of a crash
the sky has settled
and even the night
comes to us in shades
mine grows darker still
under the guidance of failing stars
and a wearied moon
tired of covering shifts
for the chronically absent sun

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Bekah Steimel is a 34-year-old writer living in St. Louis, whose poems have been published globally. Her pastimes include flirting, drinking whiskey and making people uncomfortable. Find her in literary magazines such as Clutching at Straws, Gutter Eloquence, and Rain Party Disaster, and in anthologies from publishers such as Kind of a Hurricane Press and Unknown Press. Visit http://www.bekahsteimel.com and follow her @BekahSteimel.