Whose Life Was This?

[ButterflyKiss]

What happened here?
Where are those that once held me dear?
Why does everyone seem to stear clear?
Try to hide, from me, their tears?

Sifting through remnants of this strangers life;
beautiful, discarded collections of what used to be.
Forsaken recollections, reminiscence of the once divine,
forgotten bits of innocense.
This must have been quite exquisite.
From what I can see, this was a great loss, a tragedy.
Skeletons, remains of the sublime are all I find.

What happened here?
Where are those that once held me dear?
Why does everyone seem to stear clear?
Try to hide, from me, their tears?

Who would leave this here?
This life's precious inventories.
Discard such treasures, such beauty, cherished memories?
There's got to be more to this story.
Smoldering emotions stirred.
Delicate truths unravel.
No longer blurred.

What happened here?
Where are those that once held me dear?
Why does everyone seem to stear clear?
Try to hide, from me, their tears?

Someone's daughter, sister, beloved friend, the "one", the

[saw]

your poem reminded me of a situation that occurred with the old man next door that passed away with no heirs. He was quite cantankerous, kept himself locked up in his house, until he died at 94......since they were unable to find any relatives, the house and all his belongings became property of the state and was auctioned off.....it was really sad...he was quite an artist, his house was filled with paintings......I bought his desk.....with everything just as he had left it....

as I sifted through the contents which included many photos, I began to wonder as your poem seems to, about who he was....we made many overtures to try to know him...he simply wanted to be left alone......an intriguing poem that sparked a strong memory for me....it's an odd undertaking, becoming a voyeur trying to connect to a person through their belongings....

[ButterflyKiss]

I felt the same way when I wrote that piece. I have chills, placing myself inside the memories you shared...sounds quite familiar to me.

No longer
the
"social butterfly"
now entombed
within these four walls
my room
consumed
doomed
life
I fear
will no longer resume
maybe
one day
I too
will be
exhumed
from within
this
coccoon