Untitled. by Clara Dunn

Dear girl,
Cities are big.
Overwhelming even
for the people
who prefer stone,
stinking bridges and
temporary traffic lights
to trees, wet hard earth
and makeshift BMX jumps.
So it's okay
if sometimes you can't leave
the bed, the room,
the house
or go beyond the corner shops.
Don't mistake that
for license -
I don't want you to stay inside!
Listen to the soul in you
when it says,
let's go sit in the park
or on museum steps
and soak in the people.
When it says,
go blend in
and be nosy.
When it says,
take me out.
Take a baby step
and go out
in bad clothes,
ragged comfort clothes
that appear raided
from the closet
of your imaginary boyfriend.
They won't tell you this,
but they aren't really looking
so hard
at you
as you think they are.
Sure, you are a pretty face
sad inside cheap clothes
and this has probably been
remarked upon,
but people move on
and I don't say this
to diminish you,
so pay attention:
you can't be an anecdote
to everyone, the missed connection,
the what-if seen through
a smeared bus window
by a lovesick boy
waiting to be woken up
by The One.
You can't be Juliet on the balcony
every time you lean
on chipped railings
or put your thumbnail between your teeth —
it's not as sexy as you think,
it's an awkward posture,
unnatural and idealised
like chiselled figures
stuck in contrapposto –
between – attitudes –
between – movements –
between – life.
Be dynamic and
move through the world
in great whirling swipes of

Clara is an unfulfilled lit and publishing grad who writes away her feelings and enjoys airing dirty laundry (watch out boys). When not scribbling poetry in Google Docs, she can be found playing solitaire, drunk dancing in her kitchen or binging a series she's definitely seen before. She shares inane thoughts and snippets of work on Twitter under the username @author_dunn.