Was thinking about my dad when I started writing this one a few years ago. I did a rough piano version of this about a year ago and uploaded it into Suno to capture the feeling/vibe.
I still keep your sweater on the back of my chair, like you may someday return to here. The light through the blinds gets dimmer with time, like the room knows you’re gone but I missed all the signs. I don’t say your name out loud anymore, but it still lives in the spaces between my words. Maybe we never really lose people — we just reflect the absence back as it hurts
And I’ve been talking to the walls again, Looking back in pain and not remembering you my friend Loss is a beast that takes over your soul Infecting your heart, till it swallows you whole. It crawls in the corners where the daylight won’t go, And whispers your name in a voice I still know.
There are coffee cups we never used, still waiting on the second shelf. Your favorite book is all dog-eared on the pages where you left yourself. I tried to read it once, but it felt like a trespass. Some stories aren’t meant to be finished when the end comes so fast
And the quiet keeps me company, I let it settle where you used to be.
And I’ve been talking to the walls again, Looking back in pain and not remembering you my friend Loss is a beast that takes over your soul Infecting your heart, till it swallows you whole. It crawls in the corners where the daylight won’t go, And whispers your name in a voice I still know.
Maybe healing isn’t setting it free — maybe it’s just making room when you have no room to breath.
I still keep your sweater on the back of my chair. I guess some goodbyes happen over the years. I still keep your voice in the back of my mind I guess some goodbyes happen over time
Talking to No-One 