Prena Poetry

i dug my own grave, six feet into the earth.
my wedding dress stained with mud,
i own no ring to a man.
i own no home
to a childhood dying inside of me.
i am nothing
as i let my flesh rot to the bones.
the flowers you left behind
barely resembles anything
to the beauty i could have been.
the epitaph after me
will never be enough
to explain the magic i wove.
i lived
like a flower or a sunset
in some european island.
i lived
and i was in love
with so many ideas and so many lives.
but now here i am
buried six feet into my own tragedy,
my white dress is a nightmare.
my gloves are torn
from the time i wept to hold your hand.
i am no madien on a white horse,
i am no godess to my femininity.
now some girl in a park somewhere
will put me in her poetries
she will tell so beautifully about
how pathetically love ruined a woman.
but no is never going to know
about the divination that woman used to be.
this story will be shredded down
till my bones only resembles shame,
but never the love i held
with my own bleeding arms.