Maybe, one day I sleep early and no longer dream of you late at night. I’ll sleep without any thoughts of you, and you no longer appear in my dreams. I’ll no longer wake up on midnight reminiscing the past, remembering those days when everything about us feels alright. The past should be left behind and not to be remembered I guess. No more staring at the dark ceiling, no more glance at the curtains beside the window and let the eyes fall asleep.
Maybe, one day you’re not the reason why I still write. You’re not the concept of my writings, the protagonist in my story, the person behind my poems. Maybe this time I’ll write for myself, and not about you anymore. Myself deserve to be the hero of my own script, and not you as a princess I’m trying to catch in the castle of black. I no longer paint my ink in a piece of paper while thinking of you, I am the owner of my pen and not you this time. No more sorrow behind the lines, no more pain in every words and no more regrets in every paragraph. My dear self you deserve to happy, that’s enough for her. Maybe, one day I’ll love myself more than her, more than anything else.
Maybe, one day I no longer regret what happened in the past. People come and go, and life moves on and keeps going without them. No one is permanent, nothings last forever indeed. No one can stop the time nor turn it back, accept what’s lost and appreciate what lies ahead of you. Every failure is a lesson, and every ending comes a new beginning. One chapter has close and another will be unfold. Maybe, one day I’ll learn the ways of life. Maybe, one day all of the pain will pass away. Maybe, one day.