I watch the candles and sing again the tunes you taught me.
I still see you kindle lights, standing next to me in a white shirt,
like I still feel my head on your chest, in a movie theater on 13th Street,
feel yours on my shoulder, on a bench in Brighton Beach,
snow falling outside, salt in your hair.
I won’t let the lights go out, I promised you.
I have been dreaming of you again recently,
five nights in a row, as vivid as I have not in months.
I no longer think you dream with me when I dream with you,
but I still sing the tunes you almost took away from me.
I won’t let the lights go out, I promised.
I didn’t know it was a promise I gave myself.