your eyes meet with hers,
through the loud swarming mass of
drunken people talking louder and louder by the second,
so you throw that smile,
you throw it and you pray that
she throws one back,
so you don't have to
spend another night,
lying in your bed,
alone.
and then,
the corners of her eyes gentle crinkle,
the apples of her cheeks bloom,
her soft lips slightly part,
as if already inviting you to
taste inside.
so you go,
move closer,
trying to remain steady on your feet,
trying to find something witty to say through the drunken fog that fills your head,
not that it matters,
she'll laugh regardless,
and give you that look,
that look,
that look that says
I want you to lay me on your bed,
take a hold of me,
and search inside me for something that cannot be found.
so you take her hand,
your palm slightly damp,
from holding on to your beer like a lifeboat,
as if it was keeping you afloat.
she leads you through the crowd,
you're squeezed in every direction until you are birthed on to the street,
finally surrounded by air that isn't heavy with
ingratiation,
desperation.
she's done this before,
you can tell,
it makes you kind of nervous,
but also makes you feel safe,
at least one of you has control of this
'situation'.