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.
Foxglove Journal 