Where the Warmth Still Lingers
August 7, 2025•186 words
I left before the clouds had formed,
before the sky grew heavy-eyed,
thinking time would rinse the ache,
but memory never stays dry.
The streets we traced are just as wide,
but silence holds them differently.
The echo of your quiet laugh
still curls inside each willow tree.
I tried to chase a brighter place,
to find a sun that didn’t dim,
but none could match the way your touch
once warmed me softly, limb by limb.
The rain here isn’t kind or slow,
it doesn’t ask or let me hide,
it falls like questions left unsaid
and wets the space I feel inside.
Your name still stirs the morning wind,
a whisper folded in the breeze.
It brushes past in coffee steam,
in music humming through the leaves.
And if I stood where once we stood,
beneath that bench in shadowed green,
I wonder if you’d feel me near,
in all the things we left between.
So if the summer stayed unlit,
and if the skies refused to burn,
know somewhere in this distant dusk
my heart still waits for your return.
- diimaan (07/08/2025)