Don't Read This As Unrequited Love

I still dream about you.
Twenty-two years beyond
the days you said goodbye.

O, how you cried,
and how I cried, until I didn’t.
I feel the shock.

I was going to marry you!
Living in my father’s basement,
we were going to be one.

We shared a lot;
we sang together;
we have no future.

Do you share the wound
at what could have been
between two of us in love?

But it wasn’t love—what was it?
Young, on fire, we could have changed
my entire world, spilling out onto the streets.

I wouldn’t change what happened,
for any amount would steal away
from what I have now, when I dream of you.