I wonder what our love was
(I know you loved me once, we didn't say it, but it was true).
What do you call it
the kind of love where
you looked right into me
and I saw all of you
and we kept forgetting
that we came from the same place
and were made of the same things
and at night, dream the same dreams.
Sometimes when I am alone at home
I imagine us doing the same things.
Sometimes when I am alone in a city
my eyes still look for you.