my heartbreak still smells like summer

It was August when you left —

not with thunder or warning,

but with a quietness

louder than any storm.

The windows were open,

and the air smelled of cut grass,

sun lotion,

and the sweet sweat of long days.

You said,

"I just need time."

And time,

so loyal to no one,

took you further each day.

Now, each summer smells like

you.

Like melted ice cream dripping on my hands.

Like jasmine in the evening.

Like sunscreen and sea salt

and secrets shared under skies

too blue to keep anything sad.

I walk the same paths

where we once held hands,

and the sun still shines

as if nothing happened.

But I’ve changed —

not like the seasons,

but like a shoreline

after a hundred tides.

I no longer cry,

but the breeze still reminds me

of your laugh

rising in the heat,

and how love, when lost,

doesn’t vanish —

it lingers in senses,

scattered across summers

you’re no longer in.

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Thank you for reading...

Regards: Fazal Hadi