the freewheeling soul


the girl who sat with me in bare faces and freshly washed hair

talking through late nights that slid into early mornings,

no matter what we had to do come sunrise. 

the exhaustion was always worth the lingering glow

of her undivided attention.

she could adorn you with her words,

her compliments lain 

glistening and heavy on your chest

like diamonds.

to live in her world is to be loved, challenged,

made to dance and learn and think and laugh.

she is like the electronic music she loves,

restless, raw and forcefully alive. 

she harbors struggles of her own

but there is always room for yours,

curled up with a cup of coffee and her unflinching empathy. 

she came from the sea, formed by wind and sand and salt,

bowls full of seaglass, drawers full of makeup;

her spontaneous heart

knocked my cautious restraint on its head. 

we can laugh off anything,

dance off anything, 

drink off anything. 

we fell into rituals without even meaning to –

70s music and carefully applied lipstick before the bar, 

heaping plates of buttered noodles when we’d stumble back home.

she taught me much more than the biting 8am classes we dragged ourselves to:

how to find comfort and confidence in my body.

how to be my own advocate.

how to stalk a cheap flight.

how to leave the bar tipsy without opening up your wallet.

how to say yes and worry later.

she is a stranger only to those she hasn’t met yet –

I hope you’re lucky enough

to catch her on your way

through this world.

she is clever beyond belief,

a master storyteller,

witty and endearing.

a freewheeling soul

perpetually in motion.

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