while it is true that past is past,
my calendar still reminds me
of my yesterday.
it still sores
that even a bag of ice
can't cure.

it still haunts me.
crawled up to my nerves.
gave me lots of it's-time-to-cry nights
which i think i deserve.

crying became my lullaby
as if it is now a prerequisite
for me to sleep.

but
i am tired
of this solitude,
of guilt,
of crying for help.

it's hard to forgive others,
but i guess
it is harder to forgive yourself.
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