Prena Poetry

but my love
what will you do
when it starts to get lonelier than ever.
i know some years down the line
you will look so lovely
as you lean by your small apartment window
in one of those majestic cities
and quietly smoke a cigarette.
i know how you will smell of
fresh cut lavender on monday mornings.
every weekday at 10am,
the little lady behind your desk
will draw her head out of her huge computer
just to tell you, you look beautiful.
but that would just seem so insignificant to you.
now and then,
you will remember yourself
telling how there is a billion universe
revolving inside this one cosmic universe.
and yet, at 1pm, when you sit at the cafeteria
among a hundred people each resonating
with their own principles and insignificance.
you will feel as though the billion universe
crashing into nothingness.
and it will all relapse to loneliness
circumventing over and again.
you will press your lips against some men
but what will you do
when no one feels like home?
when no one will know,
that the fair quite lady who sits on desk five
and placidly greets others with a smile
cries behind her shower blue curtain
night after night.
no one will know,
how desperately this lady
who smells of lavender
is dying trying to put herself together
in a globe of infinite uncertainty.
what will you do, my love?
as you slowly get lost in the void
when you were actually only trying
to get to yourself.