The real friendships lay in the cut, as quiet as it’s kept
The faux friendships at the fore front trying to get the bouncer to look at two pairs of bouncing titties
Poppin lips and gums and bouncing hips and hurting toes in 97 inch heels and tight dresses
Afraid to say the hard things, but brave enough to say the heartless things
Afraid to take criticism wrapped in love, but brave enough to take her beau and wrap him in your whim and your sheets
I see them
They spout the most profound three lettered phrases like, “Bitches be fake…”
While wearing their acrylic nails, extensions, and patent pleather heels
My dear, where is your mirror?
The real friendships lay in the cut, as quiet as it’s kept
The faux four traipsing down the canals of cruel laughter when one’s heart is broken
Or one’s heel breaks just before they enter the lair of deceit
Where they’ll pass themselves off as “having it together”
Having just spent their check on clothes not befitting the weather
And take body shots until their body drops on top of bodies unremembered in the light of dawn
Bare booty and chess forgot the queen and became a pawn
And call their faux homie to brag about exploits where  they were the one exploited
That was Saturday, this is Sunday, they’ve transformed into the annointed
They’re leaping for joy in aisles of divinity, tears replacing sweat
Searching for pieces of where their Godliness was last left
And real friendship is elusive, as quiet as it’s kept
I can’t befriend a foe or a faux who knows not self
So I stay stuck in the back of a Butler book
A fledgling trying to sew my talents into a parable
It sounds terrible, but the real friendships lay in the cut
I open wounds to commune with them, hoping they won’t get salty with me
I walk beside my friends, and in our weird, well read way
We are content
They tell me my dress is cute and it doesn’t feel like competition
We wear flats and dance with each other and are happy when one is flirted with
That means there is hope for the no make-up, brown skin, coarse haired clique who isn’t a clique
And then it clicks
And we stop keeping the secret to ourselves…