Inna Stasyuk Aesthetics

Sunday

8

March 2015

0

COMMENTS

Chaos of These Ruins.

Written by , Posted in Love Life, Love Poetry

 

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“Hello” I whisper softly, to the familiar stranger,
“Hello” she mouths back, in silence.

It is her silence, not carefully crafted words that interrogate the heart within me,
Unclothe my soul, and reveal the depths of me.
It is her silence, that leaves me clenching a naked heart,
A naked, broken heart, stripped of the beautiful pretense, and the sparkling charade.

My eyes rise to meet hers, and I am sinking into the blue green oceans of raw emotion.
As I am swallowed up by the depths of these raging waters of blue and green,
I recognize it all…

I recognize the shattered walls, and I lift a piece of hanging wallpaper,

Wallpaper that once made these walls a home.
I pick up scattered pages of a once familiar script,
Chapters, no longer in any particular order, no longer holding any meaning.
Thousands of pages of empty words, lifeless scribbles without a voice.

I stand among the chaos of these ruins,
Of these ruins, that once made up my home, my world.
Of these ruins, that once clothed my heart,
Of these ruins, that once were the foundation of my everything, my life.

I stand in the whirlwind of these scattered pages,
Of these pages, that defined my past,
Of these pages, that made sense of all my regret,
Of these pages, that explained my pain, my suffering, and all my hearts troubles.
Of these pages, that once foretold my future.

I can still hear the echos of familiar voices, warning me.
Warning me to stop searching,
Warning me to stop questioning.
Warning me to stop reading,
Warning me to stop writing,
To stop digging, to stop listening.
Voices begging me to believe in this beautifully built city of pretense,
And to worship in this sparkling charade.
Begging me to memorize the perfect script,
The perfect aged script, of the past, the present, and the future.
The perfect aged script, that held all of the answers.
Lest’ I end up with a chaos of ruins…

But most sharply of all, I can still feel the pangs of a made up love.
A love that I lived for, a love that never was.

I find my way out of these blue green waters,
I escape the currents of the raging, blue green oceans.

Tears now caress the familiar stranger’s face,
I reach out to comfort her, to show her I understand,
I’ve stood in the chaos of her ruins, I’ve held her naked heart,
And as I reach for her, her hand reaches for me,
And then my hand hits glass, and I taste the salty waters of her tears.
My own tears.

I will continue searching.
I will continue reading.
I will continue writing.
I will continue digging.
I will continue hearing.
I will continue seeking.
I will continue questioning.

And perhaps there are ruins where my hope used to live,
My heart is now set free.
Free from the walls, from the scripts, from the cages, and from the make-belief.
And perhaps I no longer have all the answers, but I am free to live into the questions.

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