the girl you knew wore puffed sleeves
and she never liked coffee
or summers or someone calling her pretty.
yet she looked in the mirror and
took up narcissism as a coping mechanism.
she had no moral compass
pointing the polar coordinates.
she would stomp over million dollar canvases
and go to park as she read about Marxism.
she liked humming birds and
thorn necklaces of Frida Kahlo
she said she wore her heart on her sleeves
except she hid it a hundred layers beneath
the girl you knew was lonely, angry, loud,
offensive, devastatingly tired—and yet so
desperate to live, experience
and finally rot with the Mother Earth.
she had no final form,
no image of a machinery future,
no dream of carrying flowers
down the wedding aisle
to attend her own funeral.
she was the cold eyed Mona Lisa,
the girl who tossed away her pearl earring
ripped up her veil
and the white little parasol
the girl you knew
has always been part of you
hasn’t she ?
aren’t you?
Prena Poetry 
Leave a comment