hair a coiled mess,
arms in the air,
hoop earrings catching the lights.
She throws her head back laughing,
pointing at me
like everything’s all right in the world.
My friend—the model, the lover,
thethrow-her-heart-at-the-wall-to-see-if-it-sticks.
And I’m wondering what it’s like
to keep picking up pieces of your heart,
and keep loving anyway.
To be touched every day by strangers?—
prodded, posed, wanted?—
and not flinch when someone reaches for you. To still let love in without guarding your skin.
And I wonder what it’s like
to walk right into someone’s life
and hand them everything,
knowing they'll one day walk right out with it all.
It’s not that she’s fearless.
It’s that she keeps showing up
even if she’s afraid.
Keeps fucking up.
Keeps loving people who don’t deserve her.
Keeps laughing.
Keeps dancing.
A tear bubbles on my lashes.
I don’t wipe it. It won’t fall.
She’s still looking. So I keep smiling.
DJ Crush murmurs into the mic again?—
“You’ll know it’s real when the feeling doesn’t go after you come.”
