We danced and spun, arms in the air and wrapped around each other tight with pupils in irises seeing further into each other than they could anywhere else in the flashing lights and haze of the dancefloor. My smile stretched up to my hairline at the adjectives falling over themselves to get off of your tongue and reach the air and my ears and my ears grinned too for you. You told me lots of things I didn't want to believe but showed my teeth to anyway because that's the kind of girl I am. Compliments sit on me like a skirt woven of bad memories and I tried to warn you but you never spared a second to listen to more than what my pretty lips said to please your pretty face. Your pretty face was pleased with what it saw, anyway, and it urged the rest of you to follow suit in appreciation - which you did, but it didn't feel like anything deeper than your skin was touching me and you might as well not have bothered. It didn't make my eyes smile and every other smile can be faked.