Yesterday cried again.

Does it hurt when hurt heals?
Does it feel like there are no tomorrows
and todays don’t even exist?
And does it hurt to even think about yesterday?


Yesterday was a twisted note on a broken string
And the chords went all wrong.
Like played by the fingers of a drunken player.
And every finger moved, every fret touched
played it all wrong again.
And what hurts the most,
was the fact that you were seething within.
And it was my tune you were humming.
That twisted, tormented tune.


And the pain piles on me from all ends.
Like a rainfalls of daggers.
They plunge, then turn and
twist their wicked heads in my skin.
And keep pulling, on what is left of
my composure.
All of a sudden, I am on my knees.
5 minutes is all I need.
And I could weep through it.
Could tell you how much it rained yesterday.
And how much it burns now.
The stable earth and the restless water.
The confluence was meant to be,
but somewhere we missed the smell of the rain.


And yesterday cried again…
with all its pain.


We all have heartbreaks. Poetry is a good way to get over them.



About Abhi Surendran

Abhi quit his corporate job, and decided to immerse himself in travels, photography, occasional periods of bankruptcy, and copious amounts of insanity. He is currently working on a book of his experiences, and a dream road trip through South Asia. Both in a haphazard fashion. He blogs at Iamnothome and you can also catch him at times on Facebook and twitter.

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