Broken Record

I've been singing the same song for years
in different tunes and to different people.
I've watched the faces light up
one by one,
become their anthem,
and as the days went on,
the words changed
ever so slightly
for each and every one
until I was serenading them-
toasting to their hands,
to their teeth,
to their shoulders.
Celebrating every little piece of them,
because they'd heard my lonely crooning 
and mistaken it for a symphony,
and I,
like most musicians,
foolishly wrote song after song
for the time that they spent leaning on my piano,
dazzled and dazed by the notes I could hit.
Handed them the vocal chords that gave me my sustenance
because I thought they wanted them,
but soon they all found cooler bands,
newer songs,
prettier melodies.
And I have learned
through years of purging names from the lines of songs
written in the heat of the moment
that sometimes your favorite song is only your favorite song
because it makes you feel special,
because nobody else knows the artist.
And now I am an anthem only to myself
the words have all been crossed out
and now all I can do
is hum along.