I Wrote This Song About You Again

A cycle of poems «The Night Won’t Let Me Forget You»

Another chord. Another line.
Same old story, different frame.
I told myself I’d draw the line…
But here we are. And here’s your name.

The coffee’s cold. The page is torn.
I crossed out “love” and wrote “regret.”
It rhymes too well with “broken,” “worn,”
And every word I can’t forget.

You’re not here. Haven’t been for years.
But still you live inside my hands -
In minor keys, in midnight fears,
In melodies I understand.

I tried to write about the sky,
The ocean, cities, anything.
But every verse begins to cry
With your voice singing everything.

I swear this time I’ll let it burn,
Delete the file, erase the past.
But grief won’t listen. Won’t adjourn.
And songs like this? They always last.

I wrote this song about you (again),
Like muscle memory of when
Your laugh would light my darkest room,
And silence wasn’t such a tomb.
I said I’d move on, turn the page -
But heartbreak writes at any age.

I played it once for someone new,
She smiled and said, "It’s really good."
But didn’t know the words were true -
That “her” was always understood
To be you. Always. To this day.

She asked if we were still in touch.
I lied and looked the other way.
Some wounds don’t heal - they ache and clutch.
And love like ours? It never hushes.

Now she’s gone too. Said I loved a ghost.
That I was writing for the dead.
Maybe she’s right. Maybe I’m lost.
But how do you forget the breath
That taught your soul to sing?

I’ve changed the key. I’ve switched the beat.
Made it faster, made it strong.
But underneath, it’s bittersweet -
And you’re still there. Still where I belong.

I wrote this song about you (again),
Like muscle memory of when
Your laugh would light my darkest room,
And silence wasn’t such a tomb.
I said I’d move on, turn the page -
But heartbreak writes at any age.

Maybe one day I’ll find release,
Not in forgetting, not in lies,
But in the quiet, slow decrease
Of needing answers from the skies.

Maybe healing isn’t “done” -
Maybe it’s just learning how
To carry love when it’s outrun,
And sing it softly, somehow.

So if this song should ever play
On some small stage or lonely drive…
Just know I meant it all to say:
I loved you. I stayed alive
Because of how you sang to me.
Even now.
Especially.

So I’ll save this draft. Not post it. Not send.
Just leave it here, where no one sees.
Another hymn without an end…
Another prayer lost in the breeze.

I wrote this song about you (again).
I guess I always will.
And maybe… that’s okay.

Yeah.
Maybe it is.