Martina Rakar's poem is about a song that drags a person straight back into a past relationship. The speaker has tried to bury it at the bottom of her playlist, but it comes on anyway, and she can't stay in control. The repeated "That song" makes it feel like a habit she can't shake, or something circling her.
The feeling is fear mixed with grief. The song is described as icy hands clawing at her neck, gripping her heart and pressing on her lungs, while her soul hides and trembles. Then the poem turns to memory. The song reminds her of "You," but also of her younger self at seventeen: the way she laughed, played with her rings, and wrote every night to see if someone would reply. The quiet line "You don't write me anymore" is the sharpest moment.
The mood is haunted and sad. The ending repeats the opening, but now she hopes she'll never reach the song "ever again," which suggests she is stuck in the same loop.