We tangled limbs off a rooftop. Shared shitty weed that you stole from your brother. Told secrets about things that should have never happened in girlhood. Found a spot between two stars that we swore was ours- and when I asked you why we didn’t choose an actual star, you laughed and said, “what’s the fun in that?- everyone would choose the same star, but never the space around it”. And I wonder what space you occupy now. If your friends pick blank spaces to occupy and share tragedies like a dare. I hope it doesn’t feel like a dare. Every detail from every story should never be laced with a dare- but you love the game too much to play it any differently. Don’t cry at the burial because you killed it too. Girlhood ended abruptly, but you let it suffer while I dug into it with bloody fingernails. Girl’s laughter is loud until it’s not. And when everything fades and you’re stuck with a shitty feeling and a memory- remember those rooftop nights. Remember biting back at the world before it had a chance to cut any deeper. Remember every dare. Remember that space in between the stars. -AMT ©️