i.
we were probably eight when you waved back
as i looked up from my new apartment balcony.
we looked for shells and jumped through the crashing waves
as neither of us could swim yet.
i loved the way that didn’t stop you.
that was before boys, secrets and lies.
lies that were really white lies or half truths.
i never knew why you didn’t seem excited for me when i finally had my baby
after everyone else seemed done having theirs.
ii.
i must have made a new best friend in high school
when she made me a cassette tape filled with her favourite songs.
that was how i got to know carole king. songs about sisterhood, womanhood.
but where was her song about betrayal?
i never knew why you cared so much that a boy liked me
but i didn’t like him back.
i don’t know why the two of you got together later.
i pretended not to care; acted like you were wearing a sweater i returned.
after all, boys were supposed to come and go.
iii.
somewhere along Coronation Drive and jacaranda trees,
we confessed our law school crushes at a pub whilst looking for new catches.
somehow, things weren’t ever the same again when we met again.
was it better being ghosted than knowing the hard truth of
why friends drift apart?
iv.
perhaps toxic female friendships were more like poison ivy
a rash, an allergic reaction to jealously and competition.
how sad to think that i assumed we would be sworn blood sisters,
like roses blooming beside each other
without worrying about each other’s thorns.
Amy Lee holds a BA (Govt)/LLB, UQ and a LLM from The University of Melbourne. She lives in Seattle and has worked in private practice and in-houses for international companies. She is currently the Managing Editor of Quail Bell Magazine, a NYC based progressive feminist digital platform. Her work has been published in Canada, UK, Australia, Taiwan and USA.
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