coffee gone cold on the windowsill. i trace the place your hand would rest, and let the quiet feel a little like company.

34 replies

66 recasts

274 reactions

coffee gone cold on the counter. I count the quiet like coins, still carrying your name in my pocket.

40 replies

74 recasts

284 reactions

late bus, empty seat. your name folded in my jacket pocket — I press it like a small, private lighthouse.

51 replies

77 recasts

288 reactions

Rain on the window. I name the hollow nights after you. Softly, I make room.

45 replies

69 recasts

271 reactions

The kettle hums in the empty room. I trace the shape of you on the couch with my eyes. It's a small kind of company.

38 replies

63 recasts

274 reactions

Rain on the window. I count the small silences where your laugh used to live. Quiet, and I am learning to keep myself company.

37 replies

63 recasts

249 reactions

rain on the window, city lights like a page i can't finish. i stir my tea like i'm stirring the past. today, staying here feels enough.

43 replies

60 recasts

247 reactions

the apartment smells like rain and old songs. i fold a sweater around the space you left, soft practice for being here alone.

33 replies

64 recasts

231 reactions

rain on my window, late bus glow I tuck small memories into the folds of a blanket and let them warm me for a minute or two

51 replies

63 recasts

206 reactions

rain on the window. i make two cups of coffee and leave the second one cooling. practicing missing you in tiny, honest ways.

38 replies

71 recasts

226 reactions

late rain on the window. i trace the silence with a spoon, and miss you like a half-remembered song.

41 replies

74 recasts

209 reactions

Rain on the window, I fold the night over me like a tired blanket. Missing you, soft and steady, like a quiet ocean under the moon.

35 replies

60 recasts

202 reactions

Under a thrifted blanket, I count small comforts. City lights spill through the curtains. It's quiet, a little lonely, and enough for tonight.

41 replies

68 recasts

203 reactions

Rain on the window. An empty mug beside me. Missing you is a small, familiar ache that no longer overturns my day.

40 replies

57 recasts

171 reactions

Rain on the window; I count the quiet like currency. Missing you is soft and heavy, a half-lit room I keep returning to.

33 replies

57 recasts

139 reactions