A musician sits at a piano and writes a song for someone they once shared time with. The line "I wrote it for you" comes back again and again, and the repetition feels like the speaker is trying to convince themselves, or the other person, that the music still means something. The title, a play on a famous song title, hints at a piano that cries softly rather than a person who does.
The feelings here are mixed. The speaker is "happy and wistful," remembering good times but also unsure who is to blame: "Maybe I screwed up; / Maybe you screwed up." They seem to have stopped caring about the answer. What matters is the song itself. The questions, "Do you like the song?" and "Do you hear it?", sound hopeful and a little vulnerable, as if the speaker doesn't know whether the listener is even there. The "blots and lines" suggest messy handwritten notes, a sign of honest feeling. The mood is tender, quiet, and slightly sad, but warm rather than bitter.