sometimes

sunlight spills through the open window;
dust and dog hair swirl around the air.
enchantment conjured by the ordinary.
you sit there, amidst it all,
immersed in another novel
unaware of the world around you.
slowly, the sun is setting,
yet- you still sit there.
oblivious to the
orange
pink
yellow
and red
which now streak their way across the sky.
but now, the novel is not what captivates your attention.
the novel is set down and you sit there
and you quietly cry,
tears streaking silent paths across your cheeks.
you know not that i watch you
and i restrain the urge to run and hug you—
because
sometimes,
sometimes the tears just need to fall
and sometimes,
sometimes you need to be alone.
but just sometimes.