He kisses me.
Our alcohol mouths intertwined.
Our cigarettes long burned, with ash trailing as long as the city lights that you walk me home under.
I open my eyes, and he isn’t you.
Will my whole life consist of kissing complete strangers so I can find you again?

He pulls me in close and holds me.
If only he knew, that’s all I want.
I have this longing to be held.
By anyone, really.
I don’t want them to talk.
I don’t want them to look me in the eyes.
Because I’ll cry and I don’t want to cry.
Just keep holding me.
Please.
I know he will never be you, but in this moment, with my head buried on his chest, I can pretend.