Poem in B Minor by Aaron Facer

‘You know you’re in trouble when people stop listening to sad music because when people stop listening to sad music, they don’t want to know anymore; they’re turning themselves off.’
– Thom Yorke

They come around as my windows turn dark and the cold sets in, slipping in silently. Sometimes I don’t even notice them, these songs that leave no shadow, that don’t leave a trace once they’re under your skin. These are the quiet ones, the feeling songs, the songs that see and never forget. They didn’t always come to me. I used to see them from my window, winding through the streets like slender greyhounds, noses to a scent unnoticed by the rest of us. They’d walk with their feet shimmering about an inch from the ground, reminding me of the way heavy rain bounces on impact with the pavement, only frozen slightly in time. But now they’ve started coming in like strays through open windows, the crack of an open door, even keyholes. And quietly, they settle into the soul of things. Looking at them perched in corners, under chairs and tables, it would be easy to think that they were weightless. But then you look them in the eyes and you remember. You remember the weight of the world around you. You remember the weight of being here.