Late night, desolate ampitheater.
The dance has ended, except for
twinkling stars above and one lonely boy.

She glides in unnoticed,
nearly soundless.
His head is in his hands,
not really hiding
tears she saw falling
down his cheek.

She is not his true love,
but no one else is around.

Take my hand,
let me lay my head
upon your shoulder.
Dance with me
until the song is over,
then I'll leave when your
endless night is covered.

No words are needed
for the tears to stop flowing;
They trickle from his chin
until they run in rivers
onto the nape of her neck.

She doesn't bother
to shake them off,
they speak as the words
that don't spill from his lips,
a silent begging.

And the only answer
is swaying to melancholy music,
backs turned to a darkened forever.