holiest night

black light--strange blue orbs in everyone's eyes, a reflection of white in the dark room. smoke seeps into my skin, into my hair, and the smell invigorates me in a memory of excitement. the heat thickens our exhales until they feel like sighs, as if heavy with lust or desperation.

a boy stands dead center against the left wall. brown hair, too tousled to be bedhead, crowns a pale face that glows in the dim atmosphere. he stares at the crowd, a mottled array of hipsters in a sampling of the urban spectrum. the collection is a pulsing whole, and each of us dance like suffocating cells. he is too handsome to be standing amidst this sweating group. his lips are full and bright lavender, his cheeks are high and haughty.

i feel a familiar heat rise to my face. sweat trickles down my temple, slides down my neck to rest beneath my shirt. he never turns--the profile of his face is frozen in my sight, and all i can feel is the warmth of fifty people surrounding us. my lips twitch, and i bite them in frustration to keep my thoughts at bay. the only thing i want to say, i don't know how to--only feel.

look at me, i think, a broken platitude, as invisible as i am.