A touch,
A subtle understanding.
Never commanding,
Yet body language demanding
For the attention. For the affection.
An awkward gift; the thought that counts,
Wishing for your smile upon every ounce
Of effort their hearts pronounced.
The “I’m here for you”s, the “I’ve been there too”s.
They hold you when you cry—
Perhaps it’s because I was never held as a child
That I do it so easily.
They see me, for all that I am;
I was once an innocent sham.
****. I blurted out my thoughts in the moment.
They don’t scare.
Mirrored stare
Back ...at... me.
I always associated “friends” with “ends.”
A touch, a subtle gesture of reciprocated love
From friends.
I find myself, not alone, with the safehood of vulnerability.
Please don’t go. I need you.
I’m sorry for the way I am. You always make me feel enough, even when it’s not your responsibility. I’ve never felt friendship from the deepest part of myself like I do now. I’m so grateful.
Everyone is still asleep right now, so I’ve spent the last few hours drifting in my thoughts and felt the emotion carrying me towards writing. I love them so ******* much.
“White”
