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  Also by Dawn Lanuza

  The Last Time I’ll Write About You

  The Boyfriend Backtrack

  What About Today

  The Hometown Hazard

  Break-Up Anniversary

  To Phoebe,

  May flowers always

  bloom on your day.

  how it starts

  how to love in the dark

  No one knows how to love me when I’m sad

  and I can’t blame them for that

  I don’t even know how to love me

  when the voices come at night

  I hate and hate and hate

  even when I fight.

  No one knows how to love me when I’m mad

  and I can’t blame them for that

  I don’t even know how to stop me

  when my voice gets loud

  I hate and hate and hate

  even when I muffle the sound.

  No one knows how to love me

  the way I am learning now

  it takes time and patience,

  tears and self-doubt

  I hope and hope and hope

  someone will come around.

  What a whiny,

  self-absorbed girl.

  She thinks the worst of herself

  when no one even cared

  to say a thing or two at all.

  all this wanting

  I know about wanting.

  I wanted a lot of things.

  As a child, I wanted to have

  a life-sized baby doll

  feed it

  bathe it

  comb its hair

  I saw it on TV, and I

  wanted it

  wanted it

  wanted it.

  As a teenager, I wanted to meet

  this rock band

  watch backstage

  go on tour

  fall in love with the man

  I heard their song on the radio and I

  wanted it

  wanted it

  wanted it.

  Right now, I wanted to be

  with you

  catch shows on Friday nights

  play football

  shop for records

  drive around at midnight

  watch those shows on your couch

  ruffle your hair

  touch your face

  kiss you good night and I

  want it

  want it

  I want you so bad.

  I know I said I know all about wanting

  but I don’t know a thing about having.

  I haven’t met you

  but I already felt like

  I was losing you

  sad girl

  The first boy she ever loved

  told her she had sad eyes

  but changed his mind quickly.

  Instead, he called her eyes pretty.

  She didn’t know how to disagree:

  take it back, ’cause see—

  she was sad, she needed someone

  to not call her reasons petty.

  She didn’t need the praise

  he thought she required.

  She needed company

  as she learned to speak her mind.

  Her sad eyes learned first

  to say what she couldn’t.

  Isn’t it sad that he couldn’t stay

  long enough to hear it?

  the mechanic

  You tinkered with this heart

  made sure it worked fine

  screwed back the falling pieces

  before leaving it behind.

  canceled plans

  Didn’t we talk about this?

  We said we’d take on projects,

  learn musical instruments,

  take culinary classes,

  write a goddamned book.

  Well, I did the last bit.

  The last I heard from you,

  you started running in marathons,

  the last thing I would’ve put on our “to-do list”

  but hey,

  we’re no longer present in the future

  we once imagined in the past.

  the perfect plate

  When I think of you

  I recall silly things.

  Glazed doughnuts,

  chocolate chip frappé,

  linguini carbonara.

  Did I ever tell you that I hate carbonara?

  But I eat it anyway.

  I keep thinking,

  It’ll get better

  just like you and me.

  And maybe once I find that perfect plate

  you and I will have the same fate.

  We’ll have better timing;

  we’ll finally be on the same page.

  pass the message

  And all I wanted was someone to tap

  like in one of those games I played as a child

  I didn’t even need a grand gesture

  I just wanted to

  Feel a pulse to dance along to,

  some skin to touch,

  a warmth to embody

  before I lift my hand

  See the pressure roll off

  watch it travel to abled arms

  feel it say,

  Don’t worry, I’ve got your back.

  bad kisser

  I regretted kissing you;

  it was just so bad.

  I wish I could kiss you more and more

  to rid us of the last one we had.

  araneta

  And isn’t it funny how I used to kiss you on your lips?

  Now I have to settle for your cheeks.

  Isn’t it funny how you used to ask me, “Stay, please?”

  now I have to get in this cab and watch you leave.

  And the boy who wanted her to stay

  was one of the first ones who went away

  imaginary futures

  You’ve painted a nice future for me

  one where I’m right by the sea

  surrounded by books, drinking my tea.

  I envisioned this future you imagined for me

  one where I’m looking out the balcony.

  The sky is blue, the horizon is endless.

  I’m sorry, but how come you’re not in this?

  the breakup

  Are we breaking up?

  I haven’t answered the question

  but I could already see the strings snap,

  watch the pieces of the puzzle fall out.

  It was like standing in the middle of a museum

  looking at the things we built in frames.

  Nothing seemed wrong from afar

  but we knew that the paint was chipping away.

  Are we breaking up?

  As if it were my decision.

  You already did everything to make me

  say yes to the question.

  the museum of unfinished things

  We painted these walls

  with our stories

  I’m watching the chips fall

  crying

  Weren’t we building a masterpiece?

  How come we’re leaving it unfinished?

  passing through

  Missing you is a tidal wave,

  it swallows me whole.

  It reminds me of something bigger

  t
han what I’ve settled for.

  Your love is a vast ocean

  with depths of still unknown.

  I was accustomed to silent rivers,

  lovers who simply tread along.

  My heart had cracks,

  it couldn’t contain it all.

  Your love went past me

  and found a better home.

  the new normal

  Nothing’s changed.

  You still watch the same shows

  listen to the same songs

  wear the same clothes.

  You just lost me, that’s all.

  you were my first draft

  You accused me of holding back

  even when

  you had

  all of my

  unedited

  parts

  that is so last season

  I wish you witnessed

  the stars in my eyes

  the rhyme in my voice

  my heart on my sleeve

  I rarely wore it

  but with you, I did.

  Shame you never saw it;

  shame you never will again.

  travelers

  I was a substitute: someone you talked to while you got over someone you met before we did. I was the transition, how to pass time as you moved from point A to point B.

  And I never knew how to keep people. I could never just hold on. Part of me always wants to go, to wander, to roam. But then—you were slipping away first.

  So I made it into a competition, found you a replacement soon as you started to do the same. He was temporary—as expected—but you found someone more comfortable with the word permanent.

  And while I would rather avoid watching you shower her with your affection like you did with me, I couldn’t help but stare. We were in the same town. We run in the same circles. Every day, I felt a twinge turn into a pinch, until it was squeezing, draining, heart-wrenching.

  I always thought, But that was me, not so long ago.

  Despite telling myself that you were never the guy for me. You were a substitute, someone who showed up with bandages when my heart had scratches. You were the boost that I needed, all kind words and good intentions, but always wondering, curious, full of life.

  See, I was never that girl for you.

  I was just a tourist attraction.

  But you were that guy for me.

  You’ve always been my go-to destination.

  There are a thousand ways

  to say I miss you but

  I could never just

  let those words

  roll off of my tongue

  to get the job done

  I was here

  I picked that shirt that you were wearing

  in this photo that you were showing.

  Your eyes were blue and smiling,

  next to this girl that you were dating.

  It made me smile that a part of me was there

  even when you obviously didn’t care.

  It was my own version of scribbling, I was here.

  Even if it was just with who you once were.

  self-medicate

  One pill down

  here we go

  that takes care of the pain

  in my head, so

  Two nights in

  don’t you know

  I’ve been living in this bed we shared

  thinking of you, oh

  Three words then

  never heard you say them again

  you replaced one with the other

  and didn’t even bother

  Two nights in

  since you left the scene

  never saw your face again

  where did you go?

  One pill down

  another one, another one

  I do this to numb the pain

  but it’s never done

  falling in love with your words

  They told me

  those were just words;

  don’t rely on them completely.

  But don’t they know?

  All we had were our words.

  We fell

  madly

  completely

  blindly

  in love with our words.

  We said

  what we said

  because we believed.

  We heard

  what we wanted

  because of what we perceived.

  Belief is a funny thing

  hope is a wonderful feeling

  trust, it seems,

  is the only thing lacking.

  the one thing I missed the most

  The one thing I missed the most were his lips,

  the way they would part and stretch from the sides

  but then again,

  it was his smile.

  That brief moment of joy that bubbled up from his being

  the very thing I wanted most about him.

  Happy, he was my image of it,

  bright sunflowers in a field of green.

  But what of his words?

  Carefully chosen syllables

  radiating kindness and grace

  it always brought a smile upon my face.

  to the one I wanted to marry, on your wedding day

  Cheers, darlin’

  this is a pretty great night

  for those who didn’t know me

  I was the girl before the bride.

  Not here to cause trouble

  I just wanted to be a part

  of this dream I had

  when I was still around.

  That was a pretty good track

  to walk on the aisle with, by the way.

  I would have picked a different tune for the bride

  but then again,

  this is her wedding day.

  she wins

  All I have

  are these words

  my written prose

  Now she’s got

  all your words,

  your attention,

  your affection,

  your tomorrows.

  this is our cosmos

  We have these things,

  our little inside jokes.

  A whole library of facts collated

  passed on by a knowing look.

  We have these things,

  a glimpse of the world

  created by faithful companions

  before we slipped back to our own.

  Why do you always put me through the motions of

  losing you

  when all along you knew

  that I never really had you?

  off with your head

  “You didn’t need to write about that,” you said.

  That was your death sentence.

  And what if she doesn’t return,

  what if you lose sight of the girl?

  how it bends

  The thing is—

  you can end your life

  but lives will carry on:

  babies will be born

  flowers will still bloom

  books will be written

  songs will be sung.

  The Earth will complete its revolution.

  You’re the only one missing out,

  not them.

  Not all

  heartbreaks

  have to end

  with you

  broken.

  this is your lullaby

  It’s okay

  if you find yourself

  sitting by the fridge

  bawling your eyes out


  If it caught you upright

  and you had to lie down

  in the middle of the room

  to cry your heart out

  It’s okay

  if it happens to you

  in the middle of the night

  when no one is watching

  It’s okay.

  You’re okay.

  You can wear your sadness

  at midnight.

  You can keep crying

  til you fall asleep.

  As long as you’re hurting,

  it’s okay.

  You’re okay.

  You’re gonna be okay

  in the morning.

  start of the week

  Why is the start of the week always hard?

  Is it the idea of starting over,

  of putting the mask back on

  of hiding the safety pins that held you together

  and the backstitches that covered your gapes and holes?

  Is it because you have to stand up straight

  until you get to the end,

  until you crawl back to bed

  take the mask off

  let your insides spill?

  You’re a mess;

  no one needs to know it.

  You’re a mess,

  until the start of the week.

  crash and burn

  There’s excess in her heart

  a loaded sigh

  a river of tears

  a heavy feeling

  Where it came from

  she doesn’t know

  she just feels it

  in tiny doses

  Sometimes she feels

  sometimes she doesn’t

  when it comes she gets

  thrown off her rocket

  Sometimes she feels

  sometimes she wished she didn’t.

  And isn’t it sad

  to be sad

  and not be able to say it

  true nightmare

  You don’t feel safe in yourself anymore

  terrified of doing something

  uttering a single thing