A speaker is left trying to make sense of a breakup, and the whole poem is shaped by one nagging question: it was love, wasn't it? She (or he, the poem doesn't say) lists the evidence one piece at a time: the touches, the kisses, the holds, the tears. The repetition of "it was love" sounds like someone reassuring themselves, almost pleading with the memory to hold up.
Then the tone shifts. "But it wasn't enough" admits that whatever they shared wasn't strong enough to keep the other person there, and the doubtful "was it?" suggests the speaker is still reluctant to accept that. The last two lines are the hardest. The other person walks away so easily that the speaker reads it as proof the feeling was only infatuation, at least on his side. The mood is raw, hurt and uncertain, with the casual, unpolished style making it feel like a private thought spoken aloud.