Through your eyes, I have only met. br Through our spirit, we have known for a time. br The times we may or may not have obsessed, br And wonder if one's heart shall be mine. br br For I sense you through the nights, br From the whispers of the stars. br Your thoughts bring my heart into flight, br Even from afar. br br But my imagination precedes me, br For love is not sent through the wind. br But through your voice, feelings, and what is to see. br Or what's left is wonder what might have been. br br To only obsess about what is meant to be. br Never to know whether the heart is warm or cold. br This is not love, but tender curiosity. br For I cannot love what the heart does not know.