Ever had love taken away from you?
Ever had breath but could not breathe?
Ever had fools take away something valuable to you?
Ever had something so big that was swiped away from you in an hour?
Ever felt so lonely that you felt like you didn't have anyone?
Ever miss the kisses and the warm embrace you've felt?
Ever miss the sunshine and you wake up to not see your love?

Don’t fall in love with a poet.
By Jude Kyrie

I look into your trusting beautiful eyes.
You are so lovely so gentle and loving.
I wonder if you know yet
you will leave me.
For you are playing
with a tinder box.
And I am a gallon of gasoline.
The fire is inevitable.
You will find out there
A man who is gentle
with a loving heart
He will see only
the beauty in you.
You will have become
tired of my poetry
The emotional roller coaster
I choose to live on.
Weary of the poets afflictions
for red wine and infidelity.
You will fall into his bed
and he will welcome you.
Into his much stronger arms
than mine can ever be.
I shall return
to writing love poems
Poems that are
real to my heart
But to a woman
that cannot ever exist.
I shall frequent
the slam bars of the city.
And sleep with
the women who think its
Romantic to bed a poet.
Yet never ask
my last name.
So strike your tinder box.
Create a spark.
Save yourself
as I ignite into
flames before you.

you are broken.

but, like coloured fragments
in a stained glass window
light refracts through you
and creates something beautiful.

you are fractured.

but, like a cracked brick
in a weathered sidewalk
a flower tenderly pokes its head through
and creates a patch of optimism.

you are crushed.

but, like a crumbling Greek statue
millions look
from across the world
and marvel at your power.

there is beauty in whole,
and there is beauty in broken.
don't overlook either.

Let me take your heart
to where it should lie,
in a place that consists
of only you and I.

Let me take your heart
to where it should be,
in a world that exists
for only you and me.

**© Sarah Ahmed

Have you ever heard the story about the girl who started counting seconds between the lighting and the thunder, to see how far away the rain was?

We sat there, two weathered minds, on the wooden swing chained to your porch,
the delicate wind chimes were at war with the tumultuous thunder.
The little metal pipes singing, begging us not to speak.
The explosions in the sky shouting, demanding us to yell even if in comparison our voices were weak.

Maybe it was the tension between us, sitting so close yet so far, not a single space of skin touching, that cracked the sky with white lines.
Maybe it was the shaky thoughts in our heads that rattled the house the way it did.


I don't remember the name of the story, or how it went really.
All I know is that I was singing quietly to the rain and I realized that I stopped counting the seconds between me and you.

outstretched hands,
he begs her
to not step closer

reaches out,
he is already gone
and collapses
inside herself

it was not supposed to happen this way,
he swears
the beautiful warrior

the

saviour

I saw a war widow in a laundrette, washing the memories from her husbands clothes,
she had a lump in her throat, and cemetery eyes.
Because last night they told her that he was cold, untouchable.
He had fought for his country, now they said "he's free".
As if that could ever heal the pain, she can't take anymore.
She see's convoys curbcrawling West German Autobahns, Trying to pick up a war, They're going to even the score.
But he was never shot dead, he just lost his mind and his head.
Dimenture  and sore lungs from the poisons and gasses fed to him like the propaganda that the war would soon be over.
Real love, they say can last forever, so some say, they will always be together.
People don't fall in love anymore, they fall in love with the idea of being in love.
What a world to live in.
What a place to die.