Prena Poetry

there is an empty glass bottle
on my table and
i often stare at it.
then, sometimes i wish
i could fit inside it.
i wish I could shrink on somedays
and become so, so tiny piece
of this rational universe,
which possess an inherent order,
its own identify
and consciousness.

the vastness of my thoughts
often lingers around the most intangible corners of this heart;
i can never explain what it feels like
to understand.
to look at someone
and subconsciously, fall in love.
and to belong to this
chronicle of chronologies
and opportunities
stapled together
with a horizon of
unfathomable future
etched in my very palms.

then i put a note inside the bottle,
a letter to my older self
which i won’t even read
because this bottle would be
lying in a gutter somewhere
by the time i turn 25.
but it just feels nice
to place a little hope,
and lose it all again
just to live for a future
i am not even certain of.