The Phone Call – Emily Harrison

 

Hurt slips down

cheek and curve,

wet tracks into mouth, and

just stop crying.

 

The walls drop away but I stay sentient –

for now.

 

Frame hiccups,

hook and dip,

seizes split lip,

bite down on cut tissue –

bloody wine

and

just stop crying.

 

I can sink lower, though,

and melt into the sticky floor.

 

The rest, purple,

blooming and bruising,

clasp a hand,

itch it back, but escaping

again, oozing

tripping all over itself, and

still

crying.

 

Wilt across the linoleum floor,

but sick peace now,

no more,

no more,

no more.

 

 

A young writer from North Yorkshire, Emily has recently discovered that she actually likes creative writing, despite everything she may have previously said. Quite likely to be found in a local cafe drinking four cups of tea and procrastinating about her work, (someone feed her please), she can also be found on Twitter @emily__harrison. She apologises in advance for her tweets.

Advertisement

June 21, 2018June 21, 2018 by foxglovejournal Categories: PoetryTags: blooming, bruising, cheek, creative, creativity, crying, Emily Harrison, escape, floor, hand, hurt, itch, lip, North Yorkshire, peace, poem, Poetry, tears, tissue, UK, walls, wine, writing 1 Comment

The beauty of you – Francesca Leone

 

I have really tried so hard,

 

wrote about everything

(but mostly nothing) and kept

my mouth shut.

 

I got very close to true emotion

once or twice.

A good line on a man,

the ocean,

even a rhyme.

 

Lately I am face to face with the reality

of losing you

and losing my hunger for this.

I was a better writer when you hurt me.

Whatever I do to myself or let anyone else do to me

cannot come even close

to the beauty

of you twisting the knife in me.

 

There was something truly poetic in the way

you wrecked me. Every time like I didn’t expect it

or sign up for it willingly.

 

But I’ve always been fucking good at sorrow.

 

Now you’re back into my poems

and of course I put my faith in this magic again.

 

Draped in blue,

still imagining that one day I’ll get to have a conversation with you

 

tell you to please ruin me forever

for eternal glory.

 

Francesca Leone is a 24-year-old living in Rome, Italy. She writes in English at https://frellification.wordpress.com. She is currently writing a fantasy novel, but poetry remains her first love.

 

January 21, 2017February 25, 2017 by foxglovejournal Categories: Poetry, UncategorizedTags: beauty, creativity, emotion, feelings, Francesca Leone, humanity, hunger, hurt, Italy, memory, ocean, pain, poem, Poetry, relationship, rhyme, sadness, sorrow, suffering, unhappiness, writing Leave a comment