Prena Poetry

Because long ago I had known what to choose, and I found life.

I am leaving today. But it isn’t that I never loved you. I always did, but there were things that a woman like you couldn’t understand. You called me inane when we first met, and I understand that because I wasn’t any of those man you knew about. And you fell for me, because I loved tragedy and gestures of the forgotten past, when the whole world marched ahead for conspiracies and controversial humours. You taught me to balance the uneven universe, and escape the fate of sadness that I first felt when I saw an art at the back of the wall.

But somewhere inbetween our 11pm conversations about our lives and 5am alarms to watch the same sunrise. I realized that you never loved me—the real person inside my body. You loved my name, my gestures, my uninvited humours and my existence next to you. But you were never aware of the war inside of me, the war that was ripping me apart—failing to hold my soul and my body together.

But I am sure that one day in the next 10 or 20 years, we will meet again ( you would have forgotten about how you wept upon my goodbye note years ago) There we will casually sit next to each other and you would tell me about your husband who works at the foreign department, while I will narrate you the story of how I shared a drink with a 75 year old man who happened to be as wise as the ancient philosophers. You would show me pictures of your two beautiful kids and smilingly complain about how busy you had been with life, while I would remind you of the Beatles playlist, and tell you about the paintings I saw and constellations I had mapped with the neighbors kid. You would laugh at me as you gently get off the chair, cause I would still be inane for you.

And out of all I would adore your smile. But I would still be content at waving you another goodbye, because long ago I had known what to choose, and I found life.