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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required The street seemed so much smaller now The grime and the smell were still the same though Engrained like the people who lived there It was the only thing that never left him She stayed at twenty-three One tough girl Christ, he still remembers the day she knocked him out Slightly concussed, he proposed to her Not bad for a twelve-year-old She couldn’t stop laughing She wasn’t marrying no wimp that day In fact, her daily ritual was knocking him down Mum, is love painful If it’s true love, it can be It was, his head was testament to that He just kept going back for more To give her, her due, she was happy to give it to him One day he told her straight. I don’t care how many times you knock me down. I’m going to be your boyfriend. He waited for the punch She kissed him He fell down again She starting laughing It felt like the greatest feeling ever They became inseparable after that Young love had conquered One day she told him she was going away I’m going with you It’s not that kind of going away Is there another kind It’s the dying kind of going away Yes, but you won't die for a long time A year the doctors said That didn’t make sense to him We’ll just have to make the most of it, she said Make the most of it The most precious year of his young life She died the way she lived. Demanding he did the best he could with his life There were times when he really struggled Times he thought of joining her The pain in his head always changed that Even in death, she got to him The years passed by He made good She would be proud of him The street seemed so much smaller now The grime and the smell were still the same though Engrained like the people who lived there It was good to be home...
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