All Gothed Up

Killer stilettos,
Fishnet tights.
Skimpy black skirt and strappy top,
Black and silver choker.
Is this still my friend, but all gothed up?

Chalk white face,
Hair black as night.
Heavy eyeliner, mascara that’s, once again, black,
Kohl-rimmed eyes.
Is this still my friend, but all gothed up?

Familiar smile
Lights up her warm hazel eyes.
She speaks in her own voice
And laughs at my silly comments and blunders.
This is still my friend, but all gothed up.

I remember the day
When she came to our school for the first time, all alone.
And I made my first proper friend.
And we’re still mates, despite all our changes.
This is my friend, and I couldn’t care less if she’s all gothed up.