Memory

So I was listening to Eric Clapton's 'Layla' today and managed to write this...

What is the world without love,
And what is love if you cannot give?
Who am I to judge you,
Who am I to forgive?

Am I the one who made you suffer,
Am I the same one who loved you mad?
Am I the man who once told you,
That you’re all I ever had?

Am I the one who once called you,
And told you how you were too pretty to be true?
The same man who once stroked your hair,
In autumn winds when we weren’t two.

I’m not sure who I am,
But I know I really hurt you.
And that somewhere along the line, I made a mess,
And somewhere along the line I loved you.

I don’t know much, not much at all,
I’ve been repeating this rhyme for ages gone.
I don’t know when I became who I am,
When I couldn’t walk, I was forced to run.

But there’s another memory, so clear,
With me in this desolate pain,
One that radiates a thousand times,
That gives me hope and keeps me sane.

One memory that I can’t erase,
The only light in a darkened place.
The eyes that shine, with a tinge of love,
The memory of your face.