by Dawn Lanuza
you can’t recover from
Nothing’s scarier than not knowing
what midnight brings
you pray to the gods
even if it sounds like wishful thinking
You scare yourself more than
anything,
anyone.
You’re the darkness,
desperately seeking moonlight.
misfit
Sometimes you just wake up
and the world still feels all right
it’s just that:
You’re the odd one out.
role-playing
Don’t cry yet
it’s too early in the evening
you’ve got roles to play
you should be all dressed up
bright and beaming.
When it’s over
hang your clothes to dry
and get in the shower,
the water will muffle your cry
and tap you on your shoulders:
You did well, love.
Now surrender.
breaking waves
I feel it coming like the waves of the ocean.
Sometimes it’s calm,
sometimes it’s a current.
I feel it coming, looming in my chest
darkness growing inside
spreading to my arms and legs.
Living with this for years
taught me how to look for signs,
listen to the sound of my bones and insides.
My mind is aware,
I make it in time;
I swim back to shore,
I save my mind.
Yet sometimes I know
and I still couldn’t.
I feel myself let go,
I just drown in it.
good news / bad news
You’ve finally stopped falling asleep to your own tears
You close your eyes and nothing appears
When you dream, that’s when you wake
You open your eyes and find your pillows stained
roller coaster
I don’t know what to tell you—
some days it gets better
some days it feels like
it all fell apart
Some days would get so good
you doubt you were ever at the bottom
’cause how could it be this good, right?
You must have imagined it all now
But some days it gets so bad
that you forget all the good days you had.
You doubt you’d ever get one again
and is it even worth holding out?
When people say life is a roller coaster
we all think, Oh, how fun!
But we forget just how horrible it was
to hold your breath
close your eyes
anticipate that drop
And yeah you’ll feel a high
a certain adrenaline rush
but can you imagine living life like that?
Being strapped in a roller coaster of your emotions
and you just want to get out
but your seat belt’s tucked tight
and the ride just won’t stop.
sometimes you just need
someone else’s arms
to keep you intact
while
you
were
breaking.
only if you must
If you must leave her,
leave her without stepping on her toes.
Don’t bruise her lips
and silence her words.
If you must leave her,
tip her chin up
and turn away slow.
Better keep her head up as you go.
“She could take care of herself,”
doesn’t mean she didn’t need someone else to do it.
bencoolen
You’re in a different city
lying on a different bed
you’re still crying
underneath all these threads.
The rush of the day
the sights, the sounds
worked for you in the daylight
but left you by night.
You’re still you:
a hollow shell,
a brook babbling,
a mountain erupting,
silently,
patiently.
Put a lid on the crater
and still the lava flows
mad, angry lines spilling:
your temporary fixes are failing.
passengers
Sometimes you see people with the same look,
the one you’ve been trying to fix in front of the mirror
in the morning,
at night.
They look so lost and confused
that you want to take out
pieces of paper you kept in your bag, your pockets.
Maybe you can all pick it apart and compare
your notes, lessons
like unfolding an old map to answer
How do I get here?
Which way do I go?
What’s the fastest route possible?
maps
If you found yourself lost
and can’t seem to turn back
consider that—
you’re not supposed to turn around.
Keep moving forward.
Tread along the path even if it’s dark.
Maybe where you were
isn’t where you’re supposed to be,
and who you were
isn’t who you’re supposed to be
now.
honey sweet
Some people grew up with honey in their tongues
their words sound sweet,
an antidote to doubts.
I barely seek your words
because I was terrified
you are pure nectarine
it could get addicting, fast.
I wish I could keep you,
let you speak nice.
My ears are leaking blood
from scratching poison off my mind.
When you leave, I
try to savor the sweetness
but I always run out.
I know I shouldn’t keep you
but can you please keep coming back?
staying is your choice
It’s not that you don’t fall in love
you do
in fact
you fall in love with people
who made you laugh
who made you think.
You even fall in love with people
just for their smiles
or how they talk.
You fall in love,
you do
but falling in love
and staying in love
are two different things
Perhaps you have not learned
to stay
Perhaps you’ve yet to find
a good reason to
come home
When did you decide that you were
too small for a love that is enormous?
Who gave you the impression that your heart
is too tight to welcome a love so abundant?
You are an abandoned house,
waiting for the lights to turn on.
You are someone else’s home.
you’ve got standards, so what?
Here comes another article
telling you why you’re single
enumerating all the “wrong” things you’ve done.
You’re too picky, it said.
Maybe it’s true but
when you’ve been loved well,
would you ever settle for anything less?
the tale of the girl
They told the young girl,
“Be hasty, be wise.
Choose a man who’d give you
your best life.”
The young girl grew
into a woman
so now they tell her:
“Be careful, be smart.
You can’t afford to refuse
another heart.”
When did the story change?
Why do we flip the script when women age?
to my younger self
There are people who would come for you
They’d celebrate your beauty and your youth
They will gawk and stare and suck you in
Hold yourself together, don’t believe everything
There is a boy in another room
His eyes twinkle like the stars, the moon
His heart carries a love so immense
You weren’t ready for it, so don’t bend
There are people waiting for you
They will come and listen to your tune
They will pull words out of your mind
They feed your soul, keep you in line
There is a woman writing this for you
She’s got regrets and scars from her youth
She’s acquired a thicker skin, a better disposition
Most of all, she’d want to tell you,
You’re forgiven.
snooze the alarm
What’s life like
never fearing what
the weighing scale
tells you in the morning?
vessel
I see nothing wrong with my body
when I look at it in the mirror, naked.
In fact I think it looks quite lovely
That is until I get dressed
and look at my phone
then I start to wish for
a longer torso
a smaller waist
skinny arms and legs
Even worse is when I
look at my older photos
and wish I looked the same
completely forgetting about
how I got here,
how this body grew.
How it held me through the changes,
how it carried me through.
grow
At one point would you stop wishing
that you had a different nose
better hair
lighter skin
lips like a rose.
At one point would you know
that it’s your job to learn
how to be enough
no, not for a man.
It’s all for you.
It always has been.
let flowers bloom
I wish they didn’t require us to acquire thick skin.
I wish they told us to grow tender hearts instead,
to let our tongues soften.
I wish we were raised to be kind,
not cruel
Then we would be carefree,
not careful.
warm lights, cold nights
Some nights I miss the city
miss that coffee shop near the stadium
miss getting breakfasts for dinner
miss staying out late scribbling words on paper
miss the dim yellow lights on the street
miss the noisy streets go quiet
miss seeing you, in a heartbeat
miss being where you are.
Some nights I miss the city
but I’m far better where I am now.
a message
And to you who thought that I have changed:
the truth is, I didn’t.
I just learned how to speak
instead of remaining silent.
To not be afraid
of expressing my thoughts
when I used to be shamed for it.
And most of all I learned
how to treat myself better,
enough to expect others
to meet me at that level.
dead bolts
You’re knocking on the door
realizing that it’s closed
reaching up the jamb
lifting back the rug
Looking for the keys
that weren’t there anymore
twisting the knob, calling my name
scratching on the surface.
Meanwhile I
stare at the door,
purse my lips
then turn my back.
I am done falling for that.
migratory birds, too
I watched you move
from continent to continent
looking for a better climate
escaping the cold.
Has it always been about
survival?
Has it always been about
protecting yourself?
Who made you believe that you were hard to love?
These days, whenever I start doubting my capability to feel,
I think of how it used to be with you—
and I remember.
I can.
I will.
At the right time.
With the right one.
citizen
And then sometimes
you wake up
to a world that is so
messed up,
you realize—
you’re here for something,
someone,
so you get up.
rise
Once you reach the bottom
and feel yourself rise,
realize:
it really does get better—
not perfect,
maybe not even that great but
some days come with a great exhale.
Breathe in.
Then out.
Keep it up.
how it goes
a prelude
Every beginning
has an ending
Don’t let the goodbye
scare you from starting
what could be
the best
story of your life
qualified
I’ve got a knot in my chest
that needed untangling
I require able hands
strong and willing,
careful and stirring,
patient and forgiving.
I need no retreat, no fumbling.
doomsday prepper
I am somewhere between
assuming someone out there
is meant for me and
preparing myself for the possibility:
this person doesn’t exist.
the art of eating alone
I remember being nineteen and dreading the day that I had to eat in public alone.
Then I turned twenty-two and mastered the art of it.
I eat alone in a room filled with groups of people talking and laughing loudly. I hog a table and shut these people out with my earphones and submerge myself into the world of fiction. I never hurry in fear of people judging me. I linger, look out the window, laugh or frown, regardless of what people might think.
It was then that I learned to like my own company.
It is through this—the simple act of e
ating alone—that I am learning how to be my own.
nine lives
I think it’s a mistake to tell us
we’ve only got one life.
By all means, make us believe
that we’ve got nine lives.
Like cats jumping on our rooftops,
maybe then we wouldn’t be afraid.
And if we failed,
so what?
We can always start over again.
Let us believe that we can take chances,
retreat if we found ourselves in a dead end.
These lives we could have lived?
Let us live them.
the ideal
I imagine someone sitting across from me at this table with a worn-out paperback in his hands. I peer into him while my hand scribbles these words. He would slightly raise his head, put the book down an inch or so, and reveal a smile that I would return. We would remain silent, and we would not feel the need to utter a word to check how the other is doing, because we already know.
I would close this notebook, just as he would his book, and we would stand up from our seats. He would put a hand around the small of my back to lead me out, and we would leave the place with nothing but a silent giggle or a mum smile.
All this time, I kept on telling people that I wanted someone to have great conversations with. Someone I could stay up all night talking to. And I still want that, but I also realized that, above all things, I was looking for someone who I could be in solitude with.
Someone I wouldn’t mind tagging along with to things that I usually love doing on my own.
Someone who wouldn’t feel left out when I’ve gone missing, imagining things in my head.
Someone who would listen to a song with me without talking over the sound.
Someone who would join me in a library or a bookstore, scouring the bottom shelves.
Someone who could sit with me in silence without being afraid of what it all means.
One of life’s simplest pleasures is witnessing someone smile at you
for the first time.
when I said “nice to meet you,” I meant
