Prena Poetry

i had a friend who asked me not to forget her. and then a day after fishing high school,

it took me a second to recall her. a week, a month, and a year later it took me longer and longer to recall how she even looked like.

memories are a strange thing, i can so much say that i remember every detail of the school’s football field, the rustling of bamboo trees and our tiny lunch boxes. but then i worry that i’m forgetting the important things.

now i look at her photos

and even that isn’t enough

to recall how her face exactly looked like.

i haven’t spoken to her since then

i wonder how many more people

i am going to love and leave

because a part of growing up asks for a sacrifice from you and you think that you have sacrificed your fiends, your family, your hobbies all just to be here when in fact it is pieces of you that you give way,

pieces of yourself that you forget to grieve for.

what do i do with my time left here?

what do i tell when they ask me about me?

that i am child who never learned to grieve

or an adult who found comfort in it.

who do i pray to

the god on the poster

or to my inner child?