Women love women

Women love each other in:

“Text me when you get home”

and backs of skirts discreetly checked for stains

and whispered warnings about men

and “you’re not fat”

and even better “you’re fine the way you are.”

and “have you eaten?”

and “I’m going to the toilet, wanna come?”

and shared jackets, swapped secrets, late night tears

and hair held over bouts of vomit

and welcoming homes

and hot lunches for sicknesses

and cups of tea, so many cups of tea

and Meftal Spaz

and “are you ok?”/“wanna talk about it?”

Women love each other in:

Cold hard truths, gentle lies, forgiveness and an award worthy tolerance of the other’s PMS rages

and home remedies and face packs and unwanted advice and gynaecologist numbers and in-depth knowledge of the other’s mothers, babies and pets.

Women love each other in:

“Take this it’ll look good on you.”

and “please don’t wear that.”

and “who cares, wear what you want.”

and “I told you so.”

but also “I’m here for you.”

Mostly, women love each other in those four words. And they’re enough.