by Bridie Wilkinson

For the times that we twirl on sticky dance floors,
our tights running away with us,

For the high-pitch screams and cackles that call to our coven,
scattering men and raising eyebrows,

For the x’s and the o’s and the endearments signing off every message,
sincerity shining out of our screens,

For the tight hugs and entwined limbs that hold together what’s unstuck,
making the shaking world stable,

For the hurtful truth and the honest voice to reel back in reverie,
softening the reality check,

For the unspoken speech, bitten lips and the language of widened eyes,
hands pulling us gently away,

For the shared spaces and borrowed time that no longer needs counting,
debts never owed and never paid,

For the warmth burning between us that we constantly tossed back and forth,
glowing behind every day,

For all of that, all of this, all of us.


Bridie Wilkinson | bridifer | Russian Novel

Co-founder of Dear Damsels, occasional poet.

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