Best Friends Don’t Tell
Juliette van der Molen
Thick amber gold, a hanging plumb line,
braid trimmed in a black satin bow. Cool eyes
blue like buttons traveling down her spine,
our secret shared, keeping lookout for spies.
Tumbled deep through a looking glass, undressed
beneath a tangle of sleepover sheets.
Practice kisses turned real as we lay pressed
thigh to thigh, thready breath—tongues sucking sweets.
Daylight chases clandestine night. Now
settled into too tight shoes, pretending
like we never strayed from boys. Solemn vow,
broken heart on a chain, best friends—blending.
Truth traced in a constellation lit sky,
Closed eyes dreaming that I could be your guy.
12
Cauldron Anthology