i don't know him.

but there is sadness
reflecting in his eyes.
i cry for him,
the tears falling.
drying. fading.
as though they never were.

i watch from afar,
longing to embrace him,
and make him smile,
but he does not know me.

and so i watch;
he doesn't see me,
like she doesn't see him.

he's lonely amongst a crowd.
blending in but standing apart;
he tries to run, but he doesn't move.

and when he cries,
his head hanging low,
i'll turn away and close my eyes;
i'll turn my music louder,
and allow a man
the courage to shed his tears.

he's drinking away his sorrow,
and he'll fall asleep tonight
in a haze of black and white,
and awaken to thoughts
better left forgotten.

he lifts his head then,
to meet my stare,
and suddenly,

i do know him.

we both sing songs
of the brokenhearted.