The firetips of his fingers glaze my skin
As I look into his empty eyes
They are a vacant brown
Easily mistaken for green or blue or hazel

I choose to look away as he kisses me
So similarly, so differently

The music of the club pounds in my chest
The texture of his unfamiliar hands on the small
of my back burn my skin, he is new, strange
a nobody.

I feel the weight of vodka holding me to the ground
And I see the beer bottle in his hand
The lights, the colours, the fake smoke

He buys me a shot, his eyes still missing a soul
To me, I look up at his face wishing to say something
But there is nothing to say, no reason to speak

We are strangers, in a bar, he tells me I am hot
And with his uncharacteristic face, I could pretend
He is anybody, nobody

You.
And the stings of his empty drinks and heart
Can’t quite burn my soul