Milan Milic

Joined June 2024

535 stories

Bio

Hi, I’m Milan. I write about love, fear, money, and everything in between — wherever inspiration goes. My brain doesn’t stick to one genre.

Stories (535)

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The Calm Exit
I didn’t slam the door. No movie moment, no screaming, no plate-shattering truth. I used to think leaving had to be loud
By Milan Milicabout 5 hours ago in Poets
Mended Hunger
I used to live on crumbs. A late reply. A “miss you” at 2 a.m. A half-hearted plan You’d cancel like it was weather.
By Milan Milica day ago in Poets
Ashes, Gathered
The last box was lighter than I expected. Mostly air, and that dry-paper smell of things that used to matter every day.
By Milan Milic2 days ago in Poets
Tender Boundaries
The first time I said no, My whole body braced for impact like the ceiling might collapse from one honest syllable. ﹁﹂
By Milan Milic2 days ago in Poets
The Unlearning
I’m unlearning rules I never agreed to, but lived by like rent. Don’t be too much. Don’t need too much. Don’t make a scene.
By Milan Milic3 days ago in Poets
Borrowed Backbone
I didn’t grow a backbone overnight. I borrowed it, honestly, like a jacket someone hands you when they notice you’re shivering
By Milan Milic3 days ago in Poets
Wintering Heart
My heart has been wintering, And I used to hate that word Like rest was laziness wearing a pretty coat. ﹁﹂ But the mornings are darker lately,
By Milan Milic4 days ago in Poets
Thorns and Halos
I used to think love should hurt a little, like tight shoes you “break in” because they look good on you. Blisters as proof.
By Milan Milic4 days ago in Poets
Not Your Shadow
You liked me best when I stayed behind you, quiet as a coat on a chair, laughing at your jokes before I even got them.
By Milan Milic5 days ago in Poets
Mirror, Softer
I used to stand in the mirror like I was giving a report on everything I’d done wrong. Chin angle, eye bags, that weird bend in my smile
By Milan Milic6 days ago in Poets
Memory’s Pockets
My coat pockets are full of small nonsense a receipt that’s faded to blank, two coins from a country I don’t live in, a gum wrapper folded into a tight square
By Milan Milic6 days ago in Poets
The Doorway Habit
I stand in doorways like it’s a job. Party doorway, kitchen doorway, the mouth of the subway where the air changes temperature
By Milan Milic7 days ago in Poets

Milan Milic

Bio

Stories .css-1svwz57-Text{display:inline-block;color:var(--text-default-mute);}(535)

Filter by community

The Calm Exit

Mended Hunger

Ashes, Gathered

Tender Boundaries

The Unlearning

Borrowed Backbone

Wintering Heart

Thorns and Halos

Not Your Shadow

Mirror, Softer

Memory’s Pockets

The Doorway Habit

Stories (535)