Prena Poetry

Dear Milan,

A friend of a friend told me that you had been in love with me. Another friend told me that you were a beautiful human.

You believed in the art of first eye contact. You believed in the magic of resilience and redemption from the gods. The world through your eyes mustn’t have been easier too. People broke your soul. I broke your heart. We were both half shattered kids, fixing each other with pieces of each other’s childhood trauma. We each held stories on our spine that non of books would have been able to carry.

But it was that same story that lead us in opposite directions . You healed or at least that’s what I think. And on the other hand, I couldn’t. You made it seem letting go and fixing oneself was so easy. You wrapped up your damages, promising to never let them define you as you trusted yourself to a better loving future. And you assumed I would do the same.

You unknowingly pushed me to a point where I couldn’t even recognize who I was. And then I realized, everything I have been through defines me because if not for that I would have never been who I am today, I would have never learned a billion beautiful things that comes from the womb of adversity. I would have just dissolved away into a foolish ignorance.

So I left.

Because when you believed in the art of first eye contact, you weren’t aware that it was not going to remain the same. You saw yourself through a million better parts of me, and you thought that was love. But the only thing was, you never saw yourself through depressed, tiring and lonelier parts of me.

You were just in love with an idea of me.