inked friends

The Content of My Invasive Thoughts

The Content of My Invasive Thoughts
W.E. Leigh

Your smile
Your hands
And the ridges on your hands
Your bare naked legs
And you throwing them in the air
In an impromptu dance you’d do with all your energy
Your arms holding me
Your arms disowning me
Me pulling you back in
Me attempting to pull you back in
Giving you a foot massage
And trying to give you a foot massage
The balls of your feet gently resting on my lap
Or you gingerly saying “I don’t want this,” so I put them back on the table
Your legs wrapping around his waist, bare toes curling
The way you’ve done
Your legs wrapping around my waist, bare toes curling
The way you’ve not done
And the way you kissed me drunk
And the way you kissed me sober
The way we walked through the town like old, married tourists
The way we laid in bed and you cutely curled into a neat form, ready to receive my arms around your waist
The way you said you’re confused
And how that confused me
The way that I wouldn’t want to be tied down to anybody
But with you I might give it a try
And how you have so much power
So much power over me, for that
But, even more
The way you’ll say one thing
And then immediately contradict it with another
The way your actions and feelings dangerously ricochet between my breast and yours
And the way I want nothing more than to hold your countenance in my gaze
To hold it and continue to hold it, as you also look into mine
The way I don’t know what you’re doing – or will do
The way I’ve been advised to cut you out
The way I don’t know how to end this poem
And the way that, every day, I want nothing more than to hold you again
The only time I feel sane
The only time that I ever feel sane

January 31st, 2017

read interesting books. listen to beautiful lyrics and melodies. write your own stories. go to concerts, parks and museums. study hard. take care of yourself. stay hydrated. learn to appreciate the little things. travel. learn a language. remind your friends that you’re there for them. be kind, and feel.

Have you ever platonically fallen for someone?
For the things they say and how they can always cheer you up, no matter the circumstances?
For how you can count on them and the way they get so enthusiastic about the things they love?
Have you ever watched someone without them noticing and just felt your heart burst of love for everything they do and everything they are, feeling incredibly proud to have them as a friend?
Have you ever been in awe due to the feeling of being blessed by the sheer existence of another human being?
—  // friendship
j.d.m.

This is why I left:
I saw a life with you. Not in a romantic way, but the way where when I looked at the future I saw you sitting at my dining table, confessing your worries for the 1,800th time. I saw you meeting the love of my life and introducing me to yours. I saw you loving my kids like they were your own and I saw us loving each other - platonically, simply.
But through our late night conversations about the world and about our futures - mere kids aspiring to be something great in a city that was always so poor - you spoke more about the way my smile lit your world up instead of what you’d do to create your own. You stopped fantasizing about meeting the love of your life and insisted that I was already in it, despite the fact that I said it wasn’t what I wanted. That this wasn’t how it was supposed to be.
I caught the lingering stares and the subtle comments. More than anything, I noticed how we changed; how you tried to force something on me that I didn’t want, and how you kept getting hurt in the process - silently blaming me for not reciprocating feelings that I didn’t harbor in the first place. 

Three years later and I feel the hatred steam off of you when you see me on the corner of my block. I ripped you off of me like a dying limb because I knew that if I held on to you, you’d  cling for dear life - never looking forward to another version of your own future again. I left because I’d rather hurt you now and have you move on in due time, as opposed to not at all. I didn’t want you meeting the love of my life with a cold smile and tension wrapped around your first handshake. I didn’t want you to go home at night with no one beside you. I didn’t want you to look at my kids and wish they were ours. I didn’t want you to look backwards. I needed you to look forward.

I broke your heart for your own good. But believe me when I say that you broke mine, too.

—  Fri[end]zoned // n.b.
signs you love her

1. you think she is beautiful even when she has acne all over her face and hair tied in a messy bun. you think she looks hot when she tries to be mad at you for being too hard on your self. you think she looks better than most of the human population and you think she looks best when she’s in your arms professing her love for you between sips of that bitter vodka you bought her.

2. you can’t stop thinking about her brown eyes, short black straight hair and freckled pointed nose. you can’t stop thinking of how her lips would feel against yours right this instance. you can’t stop thinking about how perfect her breasts feel in your hands. you can’t stop thinking about the late night conversation you had with her. you just can’t stop thinking about her even when you’re sipping coffee at starbucks, even when you’re watching a horror movie, even when you’re in class studying discrete math.

3. you know when she is angry, or when she is pissed at you for talking about other girls. you know what she likes to eat when she is on her period. you know when she is upset about that paper that she turned in late to her professor. you know she likes to be the centre of your attention always. you know she smiles when you hold her hand firmly in public. you know she bites her nails when she’s stressed out. you know her inside out.

4. you smile like a crazy man when you see her. you smile when someone says her name. you smile when you see a text message from her. you smile when you’re around her. you smile when people say you look good together. you smile when someone tells you she looks beautiful, like its a compliment for you and not her. you smile when she tells you she loves you. you smile when she tells you she loves to be your girl. you smile all day like an idiot and you smile until someone tells you to stop smiling because she’s not even around.

5. you talk about her to everyone, to your mom, to your bestfriend, to your room mate. you tell them everything about her. you tell them about how you read this tumblr post and it made you think of her. you tell them she’s perfect, not because of how she looks, or how smart she is, or how well she writes but because she’s yours. and only yours. you tell them how you don’t date a nine, but always a fucking ten, so yeah you tell everyone how and why she is a perfect ten.

I know, you think my generation doesn’t give two fucks about anyone else but themselves. but honestly why should we. everyone we loved left us for someone better, someone with longer legs or bigger bank balances. everyone we respected disappointed us by weaving us in a myriad of lies. everyone we idolised betrayed us. in a generation where everyone is letting everyone down, everyone is too stressed or too anxious, do you except us to care about other people. do you expect us to protect people from drowning when we dont even know how to swim. do you expect us to save lives when we want to end our own. do you expect us to love when our own hearts have been shattered into pieces. do you actually except us to give fucks about anyone but ourselves.
—  i am sorry i am selfish