Thursday, 25 September 2014

Where there is hate there has to be love right? When things get hard get up and dust your self off right? But what if you are the one wanting to let go of everything and everything and everyone just want the best for you so they dont want to let you give up- though I miss 'Our Dark Love' I think its better not to care anymore- 'Our Dark Love'/ 'My Dream'

He said ‘put your trust in someone who cares for you’. I don’t think he knew, after the last one and these past few years, trust from my heart, his absence withdrew. Torn from deep within the beating organism that keeps my body fully functioning. I am, but no-one has a clue. His admirable love still pains me like a deliberately built in thorn that refuses to escape ones’ corpse even when the fight is with life itself. His love built me up only to knock me back down to the person I was before him and am today.
Even then, trying to replace my near enough but further than the most distant universe love for him, well... it has deemed itself impossible. How can I forget him when he gave me so much to remember? It’s not possible; it would be like me forgetting I exist. Can I forget that I exist? No. I cannot. I will not. I refuse to. For then if I was to dismiss the memory of my existence I may as well be dead.
With every breath I take, every word I say, every promise I make... I remember. Every face, sound, song, poem and story carries with it a new born baby of a different memory. A memory of him, a memory of his affection, a memory of us lingers in every corner, not to mention dark bends are completely occupied with the memories we made together and the things we wrote up in history.
Despite all that reminds me, I still find myself battling, to erase his definition. A definition of him. Struggling to erase a definition of a handsome, kind-hearted, warm and loving devil from my nature. But life has other plans for us...
Hackney is a cruel and rough mistress and we are living in her. Her word is final. It always is always has been. She never rests until the battle is won and the war is over. She doesn’t give a Juliet the chance to think about leaving her Romeo let alone the opportunity to forget someone so tender completely or at all in fact. I remember when I was young she spoke to me in my deem as I fell into a deeper sleep than sleeping beauty one night, she said ‘you my dear, will fall in love once again, and you will want to walk away, but I will not let you, not this time and not forever more because he is the one for you’ when I arose from my slumber her words were no longer discoverable in my dormitory it was as if nothing had ever happened and then a whisper deeper than that I had heard in my dreamwrold  ‘no matter what, now sleep tight my young one, no matter what’ but there was no-one in the room... I was only thirteen at the time I didn’t understand but now I think that may be the only reason no matter how hard I try, I find myself grasping onto something that has flown out of my reach. Hackney maybe the only cause for the bitter frost and muscle cramping winters, or at least those of which have been spent where my life set its scene.

But then why does the blue blood from deep within our two families often tare our shared hearts apart by pulling the opposite ends too much, applying pressure to our devastatingly fragile hearts, in the place I call my home, the only place I feel home, the only place I am at home...Hackney. My Hackney.

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