it happened one night

the air was thick with his past and his unrequited future
her sister came and so did her entourage
the room filled with the curator's life, family, work friends, and artists

he stopped her to say 'hey'
suddenly the world stood still
he opened his arms
she couldn't help but lean in
small talk, big talk
trying to avoid his eyes
trying not to give too much
she could feel his lashes pointing towards her
studying her every move, her every blink
hanging on to words they've deprived themselves from
keeping a pact

he asked her if she saw the light at the end of the tunnel
she said she sees a light
some sort of glimmer

earlier that day she had an interview
the question was asked, 'what are your aspirations, who do you aspire to be'
she received the question and answered the only way she knew how, with a smile
'i am who i want to be. i'm doing exactly what i aspire to do. i'm just looking to get paid for it.'

and he, well he sits upon rocks near water, or in front of a computer screen, or over an open journal
abiding by a pact, scratching lines down, riding the highs and the lows
looking to movies for a hug, live shows for a thrill

meanwhile she works on movies and is a live show
singing her way through life, dancing in forbidden sheets
and she wonders if that forever face has turned on that dormant camera
if he's decided yet that he's worth it, that the world waits for his vision
and that she is in the front row rooting for him

she kinda cried last night on a stoop in her sister's arms
kinda, yeah. a little bit.
she could never in front of him, that would just be silly
and her friends, well... she won't lose face in front of them
but in the company of a cigarette under a moon that catches her at just the right angle
yeah, there, in that moment, a stream of moisture runs over her cheeks down her chin and falls on concrete like rain

it was like watching the sun cry