It could’ve been that he was “aesthetically pleasing,”

Or it might’ve been the way pink surprisingly suited him,

Or possibly how his smile was impossibly blinding,

But he never knew,

That he became the center,

Of the party he was merely attending,

A dance in a dark room with colorful lights,

Loud music that sounded deep into the night,

They asked him for his number,

And he gave it gladly,

Though none of them meant anything to him,

Especially me.