I saw you on the street again today.
You were over in that stranger's eye.
I felt the little spark you lit,
just to say that you still can.
I heard you on the radio twice.
You were singing about the way you taste,
just in case that I forgot.
You sang about me,
how I'll never find another you.
I smelled you on the breeze this morning,
after you left, when the sun came up.
You left a trail through the blinds.
I kept my eyes shut, to let you stay.
But even when I know you're gone,
all I can sense is you.