[Intro] [clean electric guitar arpeggios with heavy reverb] [humming] [Verse 1] [spoken vocals] Eleven years ago. Rainy night. A slippery road. A trip, one second, one crash. And she never came home again. [heavy exhale] [Chorus] [singing begins, baritone vocals] Hi, my love. It's me again. I know, I know you can't answer. But it feels good to call you even after all these years. Your voice is still here inside this phone. And as long as I can hear it, it feels like you're not really gone. [Verse 2] [finger snaps enter] This morning I opened the curtains, the sun filled the kitchen and for one second I thought you walked downstairs. Messy hair, old pajamas, that smile that made Mondays easier. But the house stayed silent, just like every morning since you left. I still talk about you to the neighbors as if you're traveling somewhere, as if you're coming back. As if my heart still refuses to understand. [Chorus] So I call your number again and again just to hear... [vocal harmony enters] (Hello, you've reached the voice...) And then your voice. That ordinary little voice I never realized how precious it was until it became all I had left. [Verse 3] Emma graduated this year. You would've been so proud. I keep a picture in my wallet right beside yours, as if you're still growing old together. I tell her about your laugh, the way you danced in the kitchen, the way you sang off-key. And somehow you were still the most beautiful song of my life. You know what makes me angry? Time. Not death, time. Because it keeps moving without you like nothing happened. Oh, like the world didn't lose someone extraordinary. People tell me I need to move on. Move on? How do you move on from the person who became your whole universe? I still breathe, I still walk, sometimes I even smile. But the truth? Part of me died with you. [Chorus] [falsetto vocals, sub-bass enters] So I call your number again and again just to hear your voice for a few seconds before it breaks me all over again today. [Bridge] It's been eleven years. Eleven years of messages. Eleven years of talking to you about my days, my fears, my regrets, my memories. As if you were still here. Tonight I dialed the number like every night, ready to hear your voice, ready to close my eyes, ready to pretend nothing had changed. Oh, but someone answered. A stranger. A voice that wasn't yours. And suddenly I understood. Your number was gone. Your voicemail was gone. Your voice was gone! [Outro] [guitar strumming intensifies] My legs gave up. I fell to the floor, holding my phone against my chest like I could stop your voice from disappearing. No. That's all I could say. No. Again and again. Then I started crying, not like a man, like a lost child, like someone abandoned for the second time. I screamed your name, I hit the floor, I begged the silence to give you back because this time, this time it was really over. No message, no voicemail, no voice. Nothing, only photographs, a few clothes that still smell a little like you, and memories time keeps stealing from me. I stared at you smiling in that picture and for the first time I was afraid. Afraid of forgetting your laugh. Afraid of forgetting your voice. Afraid that one day even my memories would betray you. And then I understood. The first time, death took you from me. But tonight, time killed you all over again. Goodnight, my love. It's me again. I know you can't answer. I know you never will. But if somehow you can still hear me, save me a place beside you. Because I'm tired now. So very tired. And when I finally close my eyes, I hope I hear your voice one last time. Not through a phone, not through a memory, but right beside me like before. Like always. I love you. I'll call you tomorrow. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.
