Even if all we can do is say "I'm sorry" until it is as meaningless air And to start with, sorry. Sorry for sitting down as you took the fist from my mouth. Sorry for God playing the piano during your first dinner party; his fingers lemon wedges, no umbrella for the damper. So sorry - the funeral shoes; untamed, the handful of stars, the overcooked babies. I know how true humanity does not squeal. Sorry for handing you fifty tiny pills, one for each day of my madness. I am so, so sorry for licking each tiny seed as the Countdown theme song hums, cracking the robin eggs at our window. I'm sorry for admitting my loneliness, as if admitting my pregnancy. The curve of my motherhood is architectural, yet you no longer touch me. You say I am not lonely, but we are all simply alone. Iâ€™m sorry for being a survivor, allowing someone else to take my heart and place it on the washing line. Yet, you say, I do not need it. Safrina Ahmed
After she left After she left I finally understood 80s power ballads. Daniel Williams
Published on Oct 3, 2011
As the dust begins to settle from the August riots, issue 3 of SL Magazine brings together the reactions of young people in Birmingham, and...