Torn between flesh and habit,
I look for similarities
Where there're none.
I suffocate on black smoke,
While staring at your arms -
Petty things like emotions
Drive me out of my skin.

Being the greatest talker,
Next to you I dissolve
And become mouthless.
My voice sounds sharp as a raiser,
Drowning in my own saliva,
I can not move - my heart is
Pounding out of my chest.

Being enthralling, I am a story
Made up and colored with crayons,
My borders all smudged up
And corners torn off -
Even the paper is ugly.
Now I'm covered in ice
And wrapped up in plastic.

Standing barefoot in the grass,
With my feet cut open,
I'm bleeding all over nature,
While the sun is shining bright
And the birds are whistling.
Pretty songs, melodic sounds.

And we talk to each other
About how happy we are:
Living our ideal lives
And having amusing conversations.
You think I'm pretty and funny,

Above all - never messed up.
But you don't know me.

Poetry by FrancescaLuca
Read 722 times
Written on 2016-08-28 at 13:09

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jim The PoetBay support member heart!
One sharp image after another; again, you've put into words feelings which are usually too elusive to describe. I enjoyed both your poems today very much.

Christopher Fernie The PoetBay support member heart!
Hi Francesca,

This is the first time I've read your work and am struck by the strong imagery of your words. I particularly like the second stanza in which your inability to talk is caused by you being 'mouthless', a much more gothic image than, say, being merely speechless.

For someone in their 20s, there is a lot of maturity in your poems. I feel there are hints and influences of Italian surrealist poets in your work; indeed, do you write in Italian initially and then translate the piece into English?

Whatever your way of composing, keep up the good work!

Cheers, Chris