It won’t all fade so quickly,

Like a lightbulb you forgot to change

Or the gradual sadness that sets in

After an empty room is enveloped in darkness-

It’ll linger, as if it’s still there,

Like the knot in your throat

That threatens to undo itself

Every time you open your mouth,

So don’t speak.

Don’t make a noise, even if

There are millions of tea kettles still whistling inside you,

Even if you are trapped in a burning house,

Just let it happen.

You know it has to,

But you never know when,

Or why.

When it’s time to let go,

You will see the roses begin to wilt,

And you won’t think, “it’s winter now,”

You’ll think, “this is the end of everything.”

And it will be,

Just for that one moment.

Everything will start to change.

The whistling will grow silent.

The boiling tea has evaporated.

The lightbulbs are covered in dust.

The houses you built are condemned,

Every window broken,

It’s gone,

You knew it would be,

But it hurts just the same.

You will think,

“This is how it feels to be disappointed in the entire universe.”

This song is late nights with texts books, incomprehensible writing, weak tea and flashcards. This song is my bedsheets and calendar, I know this song too well.

This song is what was playing when you called me, two in the morning, sobbing. I didn’t know what to say, how to act, this song gave you a shoulder to cry on, maybe this song could have healed you.

This song ran through my head when I realised it was over, that we wouldn’t speak again, that I had lost my best friend. The notes are my heart beat, hammering it in, I am still alive, still alive, still alive, still alive, sill alive.

Swells of music- god I drew you on my arm countless times, your soul was rosebuds and grape vines, cheap markers and pens.

Fast, loud- I was angry I guess but anger and sadness were one and the same. The music stopped and I realised what would happened. It started again, I accepted, moved on, heavy, this is so heavy.

I cried once and you felt bad and I didn’t want you too but I guess that’s us, we cry and we love each other and we try not to show it and the music grows- each note is my heartbeat I am still alive, still alive, still alive.

And you, the music is picking up again. Two melodies, I haven’t lost you, you are still alive, still alive, still alive.

So I say “Thank you Rachmaninoff,” and then, “Thank you Ms Fedorova,” (the pianist, I saw her and fell in love instantly) thank you for my friend and thank you for me, we are still alive, still alive, still alive.