Prena Poetry

“i think someone april. i think someone broke somebody’s heart in spring”

i have forgotten how the flavour of coffee feels like. i can only stare at a young boy on the bus stand sipping Starbucks, its coffee, i can smell it—i miss it but i gave up caffeine long ago. like how i gave up on so many people even if i am found to be missing their warmth now and then.

i board the bus, with medicines in orange containers rattling in my bag. i am told to take them once a day but i like to carry them wherever i go.

at least it makes me feel i am less alone and there are people like me out there, surviving and loving the remains of themselves.

its spring already— i haven’t yet let go of the winter blues sleeping in my sleeves. and right now, i am a couple thousand miles away, yet i can almost imagine flowers blooming on the trees of my little home land.

people must be standing under it and taking photographs of the season’s pastel artistry, they must be loving about how beautiful spring feels.

but there is something about spring that leaves in a hue of sadness, i think someone lied about April.

i think someone broke somebody’s beautiful heart in spring or maybe, maybe i have known autumn and the falling of leaves for a little too long.