The Warmth You Left Once

His phone screen showed a countdown.
I kept staring at it
while he finished his business
and I remained undone.

Shoving half a bagel into my mouth
door closing
no confetti
no laughter
instead pouring myself a glass of wine.

Drinking from the bottle
ten minutes later.
Half of it spilling onto the floor,
bleeding into the curtains
I had cleaned that morning.

My tears blurred my vision,
warm at first,
then cooling as they trailed down my cheeks.

Water cooling me,
staring at the fluorescent light
until it flickered.

A distant, wavering hum
slowly creeping into my ears.

“I lied about still loving you.
Even your own sister turned away from you.
Love will never choose you."

It wasn't love,
it was you who couldn't make the choice.

Does it come to you, my love?

The text sent once.
Your gaze fixed on the clock.
That evening in Sarajevo,
the movie that interested you more than me,
the letter I wrote the next day,
the three-hour drive.

The bracelet you gave me—
flames rising from the bin.
Replacing the warmth
you left me with once

I went to a bookshop today,
sitting down on a chair
holding a book of love poems,
music in the background,
breaking me open.

Later, I made a wish,
looking at the sky
and for the first time
asking for stars
to not keep our memories alive.

Rain started,
my fingers numbed.
I coughed, sneezed,
and stepped into the corner shop to buy an umbrella.
Outside, the rain turned to hail.

Five minutes later, the umbrella snapped.
I threw it aside and kept walking.
Everything I wore was soaked.
At my building, I stopped.
I didn’t have my keys.
I stood there in the rain,
unlocked from everywhere.

My eyes dimmed,
as if someone had lowered the sky.

Author’s note:

You don’t need another playlist. You need something written about you.

For my paid subscribers, I create custom poems and songs shaped around your story; your breakup, your longing, your healing, your loss, your everything.

Your name doesn’t go into a template.
Your story becomes the spine.

If you’ve ever wanted to hear yourself reflected back in art upgrade your subscription and join my Inner Circle.

Thanks for reading! If my words spoke to you, let them travel.