Prena Poetry

I would be lying if I said I don’t hide sadness inside my ribs. But what can you do with the sadness that is so beautiful? Sadness that choose to ache and love you at the same time. And here I carry an eon of emotions; like the water I drown in the memories that never had my name and in the arms of people that were never mine. But still, it feels like love,  when my lay my head on the earth and think of the billion sunsets and sunrise that would proceed with or without me. It feels like love, to have nothing of your own and just belong to the earth that would one day crack open and bloom in the flame of our tragic sins. It feels like love, when the sadness cradles in my arms  and put white flowers in my hair as the moon scars herself to call me beautiful. And the people I found, must have called me beautiful and loved me a few times, they must have been there to hold me when I began to melt into the river. But when they did come to know that I don’t heal; under a summer’s fall they have had no choice but to cover me with the sodden dirt and plant a flower with a tear drop. Because maybe, I have always been the nature, the leaves etched with history of aching catastrophe, roots filled with golden bane and tress who watches people but can never be like one.

— Prena Subba

[ must read book in the picture: Breakfast at Tiffany’s by Truman Capote ]