Throw the Stove
HEARTBREAKLOSSLONGING
If you ever see me smiling at my phone,
do me a favor
throw a stove at my head.
Not a warning shot,
not a gentle tap on the shoulder
I’m talking full on,
cast iron,
gravity fueled reality check.
Because last time…
last time that smile was a trap.
It started simple.
A ping, a buzz,
a message that landed in my chest like a heartbeat.
She said all the right things
butter soft words,
each one dripping with the kind of comfort
you only find in late night confessions and half drunk truths.
I believed her.
Every syllable.
We built a world in my pocket.
A digital kingdom with two thrones,
crowns made of promises.
Every laugh felt like gold.
Every “I miss you” felt like scripture.
I started carrying my phone like a lifeline,
checking it like oxygen.
Here’s the part I didn’t see
while I was counting stars,
she was setting fires.
While I was writing her into my story,
she was already working on the ending.
The cracks showed in whispers at first.
Little inconsistencies.
Her love had blackout curtains
there when she wanted,
gone when I needed it most.
And when it all came crashing down,
it wasn’t loud.
It was quiet.
Like a thief leaving with everything you own.
I was left with echoes.
Messages I couldn’t reread
without feeling my stomach twist.
Photos that felt like evidence from a crime scene.
And a smile
that same smile
turning to ash in my hands.
So now…
if you see me grinning at my phone like I just found the secret to life,
remind me about the night I sat alone
staring at the wall,
trying to figure out how something that felt so right
left me feeling so hollow.
Remind me about the mornings
when her name on my screen
meant I’d spend the rest of the day
trying to put myself back together.
Remind me that the last time I followed that feeling,
I ended up chasing a ghost.
And if I don’t listen
if I’m already too deep,
already talking like she’s “different this time”
do what I told you at the start.
Throw.
The.
Stove.
Because the truth is,
I can take a bruise from a flying appliance.
What I can’t take
is another smile that turns into smoke.
