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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