The House of Memories
These white furniture waiting for homeliness
Carrying a burden of a love
Worn
As worn is now their fabric.
The silk curtains were once the passage
To the light
As featly they were waving
Through the breeze.
Now torn pieces are hanging by the windows
Like roses withered
In the land of solitude.
Traces of steps still on the floor
Leaving a mark of existence.
Time is just a passing
From windy to wooden steps
From the fairytale to the truth.
In this empty apartment dreams are withdrawn
Into the broken walls
Taking breaths from their small chinks.
I am selling this house.
I can't carry anymore this load
So heavy, dripping tears
From the ceiling.
I am getting to the door listening to the
floor creaking.
Once, I'd listen to a melody
We danced together.
We lived together in this place.
It's like a country I can't believe in
Anymore.
I am leaving this house
With a part of my soul.
Copyright © Valeria Iliadou | Year Posted 2010
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