Roses are red,

Violets are blue.  I have lived my life,

    And so have you.

But I need,

       Something more.  (I need)

Something to love

       —With all of my heart.

All these lines.

All these words.

All these thoughts, scribbled across paper for a girl I do not see.

(Not know.)

Scribbled in ink, staining the paper.

                                    Staining my soul.

                                    …But she is—

                                    …she is beautiful…

I stand before you now. . .

We are two poets. . .

Will you let me be?

Will you accept my world as it is?

I've only just wished for a second chance. . .

The word feels strange on my tongue. Like I might just taste it and spit it out because it tasted wrong.

I might as well bite my tongue and taste blood than say that word out loud, because the word girlfriend has never been reserved for someone like me.

Don´t you remember what you wrote in that message on that cold rainy morning in May?

Because I remember crying while I hid under the covers, thinking the world had surely ended.

mmm, her

nails digging

into my back

but no one’s

here

the sun

won’t peak

That is the question you probably ask yourself every time I see those three dots disappear.

When did this become so fucking one-sided?

When will I stop making the effort?

When will I call the time of death?

You turned 5, and I have still partially forgotten the moment you came into the world. 5 years too late to meet the precious woman you were named after. You see, you were given your time to greet the world on the same day that we lost her. Your great grandmother. I can only think she was watching over us that day.

we met late in july

by a break in the sky

now our love is penniless art

thunder, thunder

over and under

recite the tale of my heart

"Hello best friend!"

Scribbled on the first line,

your name,

carried in my heart,

and written on every page.

I have gotten used to invisible hands.

They held my gaze, whispered to me.

Like a phantom lover, they mesmerized me.

It has only been a short time since they touched me,

And yet I am certain I can feel them now.

I do not want to—I do.

Following the successful launch of her second published poetry book, Wings Unfurled, we were overjoyed to speak with poet and author Libby Jenner about her poetry inspiration, writing process, and how poetry has been a powerful tool to help her with mental health and to heal traumas.

Do you know what it was/is to be in love? It was that spot in the woods by the park that is always filled with sunlight. The spot with the fairy garden that I took them to before they asked me to date them, like really date them. It was warmth and soup broth, it was a bath in some ways but not others. It is straining my eyes because I’m trying to peer into a wolf’s den or peering out of a cave and not straining my eyes because it’s night already. It is feeling like I was slapped in the face, and then wishing I had actually been slapped in the face because physical wounds are tangible. It is sobbing so hard I shake in my parked car the day after, before work, alone.

This Modern Struggle Magazine had the absolute privilege of speaking with artist Aleena Sharif and sharing her inspirational artwork.

She shares her artistic journey, her creative process, and how the power of painting the nude female form helps to promote body confidence and self-love for herself and other women.

Thank you so much to Aleena for creating representative pieces and a safe space to share nude paintings.

When I was in my 20s, I used to dislike the idea of reaching 30. I always associated being 30 with being old (I am sorry to anyone I have hurt by saying this!)

However, now that I am in my 30s, as much as I wish I were in my 20s, I do think there is a lot of power in this new decade of my life. When I was 28-29 years old, I used to have conversations with people who were already in their 30s about how I should approach this new phase of my life.

A few things I was told are that the 30s are the most beautiful years of a woman’s life: she is confident, unapologetic, and daring.

Sometimes I think of grief like an old woollen jumper. It’s the knitwear you fold at the bottom of your drawer, only getting it out on the coldest of days or in the very midst of winter.  

Sometimes you only wear it on Christmas day, or on a special date that no one else celebrates.

Once it’s enveloped you, you fold it away again, smoothing down the fabric with your fingers in a private ritual, like the most sacred of things. 

This Modern Struggle Magazine is honoured to share the beautiful words of Stephanie, a Glaswegian cinquain and soliloquy poet.

She aims to help people with her poetry, and her poem Love Yourself is an inspiring message about self-love that we all need to hear.

Following the successful launch of her third published poetry book, Sins & Sunflowers: Second Edition, we were thrilled to speak with poet and author Emma-Jane Barlow about her poetry inspiration, writing process, advice for up-and-coming poets, and how poetry has helped her express her emotions and speak up to help others with autism.

Exposing her vulnerability as she pens the tempestuous journey of loss and love, Emma-Jane explores the vicissitude of overcoming her first heartbreak, dating, and falling in love with someone new. Through the symbolism of a sunflower with canary wings, she writes about learning to love herself as she navigates new beginnings and finds her voice again. In this second and more visceral edition of Sins & Sunflowers, she digs even deeper into the trauma and tribulations of the healing journey and how believing in your own light can truly set a spirit free.

“And you’re listening to that song, and that drive with the people who you love most in this world. And in this moment, I swear, we are infinite.”

- Stephen Chbosky, The Perks of Being a Wallflower

I have always loved that one scene in The Perks of Being a Wallflower. You know, the one with the back of the car, Sam and “Heroes” by David Bowie. Or, if you remember, the one with the back of the car, Charlie and “Heroes” by David Bowie. Actually, I like the second one better, because you know at this point in the movie how much the character has gone through. You know how much he has grown, and that the freedom he feels is hard fought. It’s that one that makes me cry, that gives me hope, that makes me a little sad.