I have been staring at this piece of paper forever.
I can’t pick up the pen and write a single line.
Maybe I’ve lost my way with words.
Maybe I just lost my feelings for you.
Maybe you left my system after all those years
of writing only about my memories of you.
This week we reached another milestone. For the last year,
365 days, we have had at least one post per day on this blog and this is really
our milestone because there were your works published as well as mine. This
consistency and interaction on the blog has really made a difference. I just
want to share with you our accomplishment.
So in the last year we have had approximately 108,900 views on this blog. That’s a lot and I can’t even begin to count how many comments we have had, we are reaching 4000 subscribers as we speak. It’s all so amazing. This consistency really paid off and it just warms my heart when I read how much you all communicate with each other in the comment section, give each other advices, praise each other’s works. I never thought that, when starting The Poetry Bar, it would amount to so much and that it would actually create this amazing community of writers. Thank you again and here’s to us!
It doesn’t really hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
Sometimes the memories float through my
mind and make me shiver but it doesn’t
hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while. Sometimes
I miss you before closing my sleepy eyes and
I feel like I can feel your touch but it doesn’t
hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
Years and years ago people waited for the
pain to go away, for the heart to heal and then
they were alright, but now it’s hard to clean one’s
life from a former lover’s presence. You are
virtually reminding me that you’re not mine but it
doesn’t hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.
To hell with pain, I can deal with that but I
can’t deal with not being able to escape your
eyes and move on with my life. You are always looking
at me from pictures, reminding me of what we
had and even thought it doesn’t hurt anymore,
and it hasn’t in a while, I’m still sitting here waiting
for your presence to go offline.
I’m waiting for your name to stop being on the top
of my messenger contacts. I’m waiting for my hand
to stop clicking your name wanting to write something.
I’m waiting for Instagram stories to stop telling me
where you are. I’m waiting for the day I’ll stop opening
them. I’m waiting for our pictures to disappear from
my gallery. I’m waiting for a day I’ll be strong enough
to delete them like you deleted me.
But it doesn’t really hurt anymore. It hasn’t in a while.