There, on my pillow, a tear.

It isn't mine, I wasn't here.

I was asleep in something like a dream,

of how your smile used to gleam.

And it, being like a dream, like a happy one,

It could never have caused me to cry, or run

So here I am, looking at the tear,

wondering how it got here,

not letting myself even conceive

the idea that my dream was make-believe.