One night you were so sick you were shivering with fever. I brought you dinner, washed your dishes, undressed you and tucked you into bed. Though I was tired, I rubbed your back til you fell asleep. Then I lay down beside you, and listened to Norah Jones sing 'The Nearness Of You'. In the dark, with my eyes open, I imagined our future.

We had a love that was simple and pure. We took care of each other, and we had no need for fear or distrust. Life was not about problems then.

But this man, he does not know love. This man, he is insecure. This man, he does not dream. The world is not the same. The pain will fade with time, but I feel unalterably changed. My heart was unshielded, and the knife went deep. Will it ever heal completely? Will I be capable of sharing that kind of love again? Or has this experience hardened me, made me distrustful and cynical?

There will be many other nights like this, and I'll be standing here with someone new.
There will be other songs to sing, another Fall, another Spring, but there will never be another you.
There will be other lips that I may kiss, but they won't thrill me like yours used to do.
Yes I may dream a million dreams. But how can they come true, if there will never be another you?