She’s was like a glass filled with fire, beautiful but burning inside.

Wears an amour forged through heartache, that you can’t break with time.

Like a lantern in a in dark mine, that’s been left behind.

There’s a flame that exists but not yet used to guide.

He was an old book closed by someone else’s hands, chapters written by authors with dirt on their hands.

A castle gate locked, a bridge drawn from the mud.

To protect, to shield, at the cost of love.

She came from sirens, he came from silence.

Different wars, different wounds, but both tried to survive it.

Like a sun rise appearing, a lantern shines from the east.

The glare through the stained glass fills the castle hall with heat.

The castle gates open, she stores her amour inside.

Both brave not blind, but reborn and alive.

From rockets above and a push and a shove.

Like poetry written in ash.

A war born love.

- Nick McQue.

Photos