It’s a south London thing now; and I am feeling so delicate, so fragile - wondering if you will go all in this time. (It is your style, to be honest.)
These days, if I ask you to close your eyes will you trust me?
Will your feet move forward, trailing my steps; not fast, but steadfast still?
Things have changed since that winter night when you forced me to my knees amongst crystalised icicles; my bag sliding across the mirrored surface as I tried to get across it. After all this time I still remember waking up with a start in the middle of the night - my heart in my throat, fumbling for my phone, seeing her image and knowing that everything had been altered.
You walked away regardless, or perhaps because and you took my streets with you; making me a stranger in my own city, relentlessly searching in the ruins for what had been lost.
Will you face what you destroyed, despite the world being on fire and the stars aligning?
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