There comes a point when the sting fades away and the pain stops. You never know when it happens, it just does. One day you wake up, you go on your FB’s timeline or your instagram and come across a picture of him, and you will feel nothing. You stare at the picture for a few more minutes, waiting for that weight on your chest to hang on you, or for a memory to choke you - but nothing. His picture is just another of the hundreds in your timeline - strange and insignificant. You’re starting to forget, to heal. And you wonder to yourself - if healing means not feeling anything anymore at the memory of him, is it a good thing?
YOU ARE READING
Snippets
PoesiaWhat I couldn't say out loud, I write. Completed! Check out new poetry in Rumblings of the Sky :)
