by Dawn Lanuza
Meeting you is like
checking a list I didn’t know I had.
You’re pure magic but
here’s the best part:
you’re real,
not at all made up,
and you liked me just as much.
the band was surprisingly good though
Well, the music’s loud
but I’m convinced that
we preferred to
let our cheeks touch
It’s a secret language
a whisper, a rush
a whole world built
just for the two of us
Maybe for you I was
only part of the night
yet for me
you simply
made the night
imagine
I imagine to love you
the way I love my family and friends.
I would spend time to know you,
share meals, share beds.
I imagine to love you
the way I love my passions
I would examine your details
and study you for hours.
I imagine to love you
the way I never have.
A whole new world of possibilities
I’ll only explore with you, love.
plans
I’m sure you’ve got your own history
I will learn it all
One day
But tonight
let’s just stick
to your anatomy
I’m no artist
no critic
but darling,
you are a work of art.
double-edged swords
When I think of you
my mind latches to your memory
everything comes back to me
I’m the shore
you’re the wave
you crash into me
I fill every crack with my longing
you stick with me til the wee hours of the morning
I recall the things you said to me
play it back til my eyes feel heavy
And in the morning, I
will taste your name on my lips
as I eat my breakfast
and drink my bitter coffee
Soon my mouth will forget
the taste of yours
and so will my skin
that is until I see you again
You are agony
and sanctuary,
just the way I like it to be.
that’s something
This is how it starts, isn’t it?
All the waiting.
For the person to get back to you.
For them to respond.
For when it’s time to do the things that meant that you two are moving along.
You have done this, and now I do this.
Like a dance.
Right foot forward.
Left foot back.
If you’ve done this enough, the progression of things would seem like a natural occurrence.
If you’re like me, who has taken a long hiatus, every little thing is a milestone.
Look, I said the first hi. That’s something.
He kept asking me questions. That’s something.
This conversation is still going on. That’s something.
He said good night. That’s something.
He said good morning.
How you’ve missed this, that’s something.
And so the next day, you wait for your good morning, good night, and the in-betweens.
You wonder what other milestones you’d reach with him.
These are little things.
Maybe puny to some.
But for someone who is trying again,
they are monumental.
settling
How do you know,
how do you just know?
Do you just wake up one day,
decide to want it, and take it?
Or do you hold out?
Explore all the options,
run after vague ideas,
until you exhaust it all?
What if this was it,
just not wrapped in the way you imagined it?
You will never get to know
someone for the first time again
the same way that you can’t
unread a book,
unhear a song,
unlearn a word.
Goodbye may be inevitable
but live through it all.
enough and never more
My head is always heavy
filled with all these worries
questions for tomorrows
I am empty
staring into my reflection, thinking,
I’ve got nothing left in my bones.
All of me is on paper
these impressions
memories of people who come and go
I am a monument
frozen in time
I am this human
incapable of growth
I wish to continue,
break free from it all
but they kept saying:
Stay this way,
everything is perfect,
don’t rock the boat.
I am itching
driving myself mad
I need movement
I need action
I am a person
jumping up and down
I will lose things
in order to gain some.
I can’t keep all of this,
my arms are sore.
I only need and will keep
what is enough and never more.
stop over
I did not talk to you today because I was feeling heavier than I normally do. I woke up on the wrong side of the bed, people might say; I was more exhausted than rested.
I felt like I had nothing to say, or I had no energy to sustain a conversation, so I removed myself.
But I knew.
I knew at some point I had to get back to you. Say something. At least say, “I’m here, I’m alive.”
But I didn’t. I couldn’t find the energy to start. Or worse, to maintain a conversation that would sound like everything is all right.
You came back to me at the very last minute, before you close your eyes to say good night.
I felt bad because you were probably waiting for me to say something, like I thought, but I was too selfish to give you even the tiniest of warnings.
At some point, I may have to tell you that this happens to me. Occasionally.
I disappear.
I refuse company.
That seems like a bad thing to say, especially to a person you’re trying to be with, but who am I kidding?
You’re going to find out.
As a response, I asked you a question. “How was your day?”
You mentioned that you’re not feeling very well; it must be your migraine. And so my instinct kicked in—I asked about your meds, told you to sleep it off, and hoped you’d feel better in the morning.
I didn’t tell you about my sickness.
Unlike you, I don’t have over-the-counter medicines.
I wish I could sleep it off, but I’ve done that before. It’s either I sleep all the time or I don’t sleep at all.
Sleep today seemed like surrender, and I still wanted to win, even if I was exhausted battling this whole day.
At some point I have to tell you.
If I want this to move forward, you have to know.
I just don’t kn
ow when the best time is.
Do I tell you now, as a warning? So that before you proceed, you would know that I have this? It’s not going away. It’s not something I would miraculously snap out of.
Or do I tell you when I’m more comfortable talking about it? I don’t know when that is, but maybe when I already feel safer telling you all of my flaws?
I couldn’t decide.
Would I be issuing you a warning?
Or am I showing you a way in?
welcomed distractions
They first called you a distraction,
I didn’t disagree.
You were very good at what you did
You were exactly what I needed
A rogue, throwing pebbles at my window
sneaking out and running away
I called you for nights not just because
you’re a getaway
you were something to look forward to, at night
when the world is quiet
You came and made this wait called my life
a circus: messy, beautiful, and bright.
A celebration, a sense of right.
second loves are underrated
It shouldn’t be compared to first love
but it can’t be helped
second loves are so underrated in a way that
he was better at handling my heart.
Second lovers are careful
gentle, delicate
like unwrapping gifts with a soft hand
not with the kind of recklessness
we all once had.
Perhaps because all second lovers
also have bent and bruised hearts.
the cleaners
Sometimes it feels like stepping inside your house after you’ve had a party that night. It’s all a mess with the cups and chairs and your hair’s still sticking out on the side, but I’ve got the gallon of orange juice in my hands.
You have her written all over the walls, ’cause she’s lived here, of course, with her clothes in the closet, her toothbrush hidden in the medicine cabinet. There are things that once belonged to her, tucked in these tiny corners that you might have missed that one time you cleaned, but I still don’t move a thing.
I understand. This is your space, and all of your memories are yours: to keep, to clean.
But I will hand you that broom like I would pour you this glass of orange juice, to help rid you of this sick hangover you’ve been having.
y / n
Let’s have the kind of love
that puts fires to shame.
We’ll burn ever so brightly,
we’ll tend to the flame.
Let’s fall in love
like we never did before
or like we did
and learned from it all.
superman
He’s no hero
he’s just a man
but he did something amazing,
I’ll tell you what:
He made living a delectable option
every day less of a burden.
She’s started to envision a future
she never thought she’d have.
all I had was white space
Oh, how my life lacked color
until you came with cans of paint
and splashed it all over
You’re a kaleidoscope,
a marvel, out of this world
and I am grateful.
waking up to a dream
In the morning
I will find you
wrapped up in a blanket
head turned to the side
sleeping like a child
In the quiet
I will find
that you are not the dream
I had when I was young
You are
the sum of all the desires
I picked up
as I walked through this life
You are
the lessons I learned
as a stubborn girl,
impatient and wild
You are
hope personified
when I cried myself
to sleep at night
You are
the promise,
the life I wanted,
the one I’m living now.
Loving someone is a hard climb as it is.
Allowing yourself to be loved—
is a much higher summit.
the tourist
This city is kind to strangers
but there is no magical land
especially when your sadness
is bound to your insides.
Oh, how you wished for this
back when you couldn’t afford it.
You thought running away
would solve all the problems.
But you know better now,
and you are learning still.
No amount of change in the climate
could tame the storm in your head.
But this city is kind,
and the weather is cooler.
There is music in the streets,
and you can breathe better.
the doctor will see you now
Why is it hard to tell people that you hurt
if you can’t point to a wound?
Or even a bruise,
a broken bone?
Why do we question the hurt,
even when we feel like bleeding,
especially when we feel broken?
the hunter and the haunted
It’s so easy to come home to your unhealthy habits,
you can walk back to the fridge and wolf back its contents.
Have a whiff of a cigarette ’cause what’s one hit?
Come out to prey on a lion who’s hunting for the likes of you.
You’re no deer, you’ve caught so many.
Spun them in a tangle of
yes and no
come and go
and when you’re done you spit them out.
Look for a new one
until the game chokes you
turn your heart hard or soft?
You can’t tell anymore.
But at times you go back and seek that life,
prey on the hunter ’cause you wanna see what it’s like
to be the one surrendering,
letting go of control.
But these are monsters,
just like you,
out to steal your soul.
excess baggage
I majored in you for the past few years
specialized on your habits and quirks
now I’m out into this world
armed with this knowledge
But tell me,
what do I do with this?
How do I go about carrying
all of these bits?
Sometimes when I feel like
a part of me is missing or lacking
I wonder: whatever did you do
with the pieces I left with you?
Look at all these places
I’ve never been
next to you
projection
And maybe she’s asking for too much
she wanted stability
but couldn’t keep in touch
How can she expect someone to keep her
if she can’t even get ahold of herself?
I’m always at the brink of holding on
and letting go,
of I need to talk to you
and Please leave me alone
diagnosis
They told me I h
ave chronic pain,
so I looked it up.
It said, Any pain lasting more than 12 weeks.
I laughed because
I have been in pain for way longer than that.
In fact parts of me started to feel numb.
So what do you call that?
sylvia
All you have are painkillers
but did you ever stop?
You googled How to overdose on ibuprofen,
and it seemed like you weren’t the only one.
Sylvia took some sleeping pills
but they only thought her missing.
She slept for three days
before they found her still breathing.
Your search results came:
How to not kill yourself.
Not through this, then.
Not this way.
Not today.
therapy sessions
Tonio with the hairline fracture on his hand was being treated next to me. It had been so for three days when he started talking to me about his son. He told me he missed him and how he regretted not seeing him grow up due to a separation from his wife. I sat there tight-lipped, nodding off my sympathies because I am not like him, who talks about these things so openly to strangers, at least not face-to-face.
Tonio, with his hands dipped with once-hot wax, asked me how old I was. I thought for a minute that he would ask me to go see his son but—
Tonio, who looked about sixty or so, who fell on his back and used his hand to soften the fall, then told me that his son died at twenty-seven. He thinks of him often, of his son’s dreams that didn’t come true, of the life he didn’t get to live through.
I sat there, thinking:
I’m clinging to my last days of twenty-eight
I used to know a boy who was older than me by forty-eight days, but
Now I keep adding years to my life
While he remained twenty and seven
Young and eternal,
Six feet under the earth, and
I have pain shooting up to my head and neck, stretching onto my shoulders, my arms, my hands
All of my fingers are numb
I don’t know how I’ll be able to keep working at this rate