My Nadia was dead!
I knew it like the the dreadful taste of birth in my mouth,
like when I came to this oubliette.
She had the same identity
yet she was not the same,
a paradoxical dilemma,
to be or not to be:
to be you,
or to be your identity?
She was just
as my former illusion of her!
My Nadia was dead though
I knew it from the bottom of my heart.
It felt though she never really existed.
And learning her death
released her completely from the bondages of love and commitments.
The hollow, the emptiness felt like a continues void,
like her existence just was a short lived petals
It seemed though death only could erase mistakes.
otherwise if she was real
how could she be eliminated like this,
destitute of any trace of soul.
She has chosen the world over love,
the desire over feelings,
winning over honesty,
Success, over me,
with all my unwritten poems.
But I had to cling to that dry timber of identity
as a mean of survival
in order to calm my trepidation beck to life.
She was gone,
the star of Nadia were extinct,
~ perhaps even way before I see the shine it was gone.~
Her absence was so huge
that took me out of my orbit,
took all my world,
out of orbit,
so much that I had to use all my sanity
to replace the insane cruelty of reality,
with my softest image of my illusions;
the images that could not hold together
the solar system of "us,"
even for one second in the real world.
The harsh reality was that she was no more there
I had no orbit, no solar system any more,
I was the ugly duckling
trying to find an other solar system,
another queue of ducklings,
to snatch at any orbit to survive
drowning,
to disappear in oblivion.
because this is what it is:
the world
without her!
