Prena Poetry

i dug my own grave, six feet into the earth.

my wedding dress stained with mud,

i own no ring to a man.

i own no home

to a childhood dying inside of me.

i am nothing

as i let my flesh rot to the bones.

the flowers you left behind

barely resembles anything

to the beauty i could have been.

the epitaph after me

will never be enough

to explain the magic i wove.

i lived

like a flower or a sunset

in some european island.

i lived

and i was in love

with so many ideas and so many lives.

but now here i am

buried six feet into my own tragedy,

my white dress is a nightmare.

my gloves are torn

from the time i wept to hold your hand.

i am no madien on a white horse,

i am no godess to my femininity.

now some girl in a park somewhere

will put me in her poetries

she will tell so beautifully about

how pathetically love ruined a woman.

but no is never going to know

about the divination that woman used to be.

this story will be shredded down

till my bones only resembles shame,

but never the love i held

with my own bleeding arms.