[Poem] Tragic Love Story

Stick_Figure_Portrait_Fairy_Tales_Art by Leah Ferrarra
Stick Figure Portrait Art by Leah Ferrara

I want to write for real and expose the true writer who lives inside. To do this, I have to be brave and authentic in every word.

Truth comes with vulnerability, sadness, hope, pain, fear, and happiness. When’s it all said and done, being vulnerable is embarrassing, and embarrassment resonates with people, for some reason.

As a creative writer, I know nothing other than creating. If you’re new to this blog, here’s a crash course:

  • I lack a formal education in literature or writing.
  • I write like I speak — which, is sometimes chaotic.
  • I shoot straight, naughty words included.
  • There is no rhyme or reason, but plenty of rhythms.
  • If you’re the grammar police, an English major, or a professional writer, you’ve been warned.authentic poetry and stories from the life that defines my soul.

More background on my education can be found by clicking here.

Authentic poetry and stories from the life that defines my soul.



I never wanted a tragic love story.

I wanted the fairy tale.

Naïve girl,

big dreams,

pink lenses,

optimistic to a fault.

Hopeless romantic.

Another lesson earned.

 There is no fairy tale without tragedy.

-Robin Matteri January 2015

The love story that began twenty-two years ago has been tragic, to an extent. I didn’t know the story would began, start again, or end.

I know there’s more to the story, I’m impatiently waiting to live it. I’m aware it may be edited differently than I’d have liked, but I’m prepared.

I fell in love with him when I was seventeen. 

To be continued….Until then, here’s more poetry.

My Imaginary Boyfriend–Direct Quote From My Son… GASP!

Tyler and I --- Eyes
Me and my son when he was 10-years-old, taking a selfie, before they were cool.

From the Facebook Archives of my life, and of course, my real world. My boys are constantly messing with me –karma, of course — so I have no choice but to accept it. The thing that pisses me off most is how absolutely clever they are.

—A classic conversation between me and my oldest—I think he was about fifteen years old at the time. His wit will never stop making me laugh, and will always be sharper than mine.

Me: “Tyler, give me your girlfriends number, I want to text her.”

Tyler: “No. I don’t want you texting my girlfriend.

I don’t text your imaginary boyfriend.”