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Delia Darling Jul 2018
What does it mean to be
Emotionally unavailable?
My manic thoughts keep me starving for
An imagined happy

“Are you single?” They asked
Well, my heart is as open as an old wound
That reopens & bleeds & scars for
Vicarious validation
Yet closed in the sense that it shuts down
Every time it starts to feel something
Almost habitually,
As if in self defense
I guess you could say my heart was a
Twisted & distanced kind of available...

But no
I’m not available in my mind
Because it knows better than my
Feeling *****
The human container that’s headstrong
To it’s gullible nature
My thinking ***** knows that
Vicarious happy is not real happy
Which labels my forehead like a neon sign
Emotionally Unavailable

I crave a validation that looks like your love
But it won’t fix me
Or provide the happiness I
Desperately need for myself
You can’t love yourself through somebody else
Nicx Jul 2018
I started writing a poem about them
And the beginning sounded like ours
The one where I told you that
Words aren't enough to define us
And yes words are limiting
They also have a way of telling you more
If you pay close enough attention
When "I love you endlessly"
Turns to "ILY" and
"I can't imagine my life without you"
Turns to weeks of sitting alone
And all the "I miss you"s
Turn to "how are you"s
As if you even cared
Your actions never matched your language
Were your words too limiting for you?
When I was still always there for you
And all you did was break promises?
Were the words you spoke too constricting?
At least that would explain why you broke them
Though still not why you said them
Maybe you were afraid to let me down
Or afraid to really be seen
Or just so self-absorbed that you didn't care
That you couldn't care
About yourself
Or about me
Lyn-Purcell May 2018
I rest but don't sleep.
I eat but don't taste.
I hear but not listen.
I linger but not dream.
I rise but don't wake.
I look but don't see.
I touch but don't feel.
I'm feeling rather off waking up this morning...
Emily Miller Mar 2018
The smell of salt water invokes the image of the sea shore.
The flush of red in lips makes one feel lustful.
A rocking sensation reminds one of the comfort of the womb.
But here in this bar, the sight of that Jameson bottle on the wall makes me think of nothing
But you.
Unholy you,
With one hand brushing back unruly locks,
The other fiddling with a half-empty glass,
And that look on your face
Because you know exactly what’s going through my mind,
And that green bottle perched on a shelf.
The bartender tries to hand me my gin and tonic,
But my eyes hover above her hair,
On the dim haze of a gleam on the dusty glass,
And suddenly the haze becomes hazier,
Blurry with the unexpected moisture pooling in my eyes.
Because it’s not just from you anymore,
The **** thing is a part of me,
Because I’ll never forget when you said my eyes are the color of the glass,
Your favorite bottle,
With your famous mischievous grin,
But a softer look in your eye,
So that I know what you really mean.
It’s not just that subtle bottle green color,
It’s the fact that you can’t get enough.
Drink after drink thrown back,
And just like your glass,
You throw me down,
And you say
“I’m thirsty.”
You consume me as easily as you consume whiskey,
And I’m an essence in a bottle to you.
Bought and sold,
A commodity to be replaced,
Because you’re insatiable...
But as I stand here with my eyes on that bottle,
I realize…
I don’t want to be your addiction anymore.
xaiv vos Mar 2018
I was a welcome mat for your muddy and blistered feet
an open entrance for your troubled mind
a shelter for your shattered heart on nights where the silence became too loud

but soon, you took your refuge for granted,
my view of you over time became slanted
your ***** dishes in the sink were quicker to clean than being able to see what you were doing to me

a friendship that once felt like home became broken
and I became a pit stop that was conveniently placed on your
daily route
and you only paid in self-doubts

you were a wounded traveler that could never give, but could always take
and always left the next morning with pieces of my own sanity
I needed to lock my doors before I ended up losing everything
Jessy Feb 2018
I want to feel euphoria
I want to feel his hands on my body
I want to feel him entering me
I want to feel his lips on mine
I want to feel the shivers his touch brings to my body

I want to physically feel something
Because I don’t emotionally
Godlink Feb 2018
I've decided to lock you away...
for your own good.
My own good?
Yes, thank me in a few years.
JoAnna Nelson Jan 2018
The reason why I apologize
So profusely over the tiniest of things
Is because I always feel as though
I am a bother and annoyance so
I want the person to be aware that
I am truly sorry for the mishap
I may have brought about or the wrong words that may have come out of my mouth
Because in the past I had to apologize again and again
A million sorries I must have said
Just to get the point across
Just to assuage the anger I unintentionally caused
I apologize repeatedly
Because I fear not being taken seriously
When I say sorry I mean it with all of my heart
I apologize even when people say I am not at fault
Because in the past I was always the one guilty
I was always in the wrong
Because when that rage came up and rolled along
It rolled right over me
And so I said sorry
I said sorry to the steamroller for being in its way
And for the broken bones and bruises on my heart that I carried for days
I apologize for apologizing
Because I know I must sound so repetitive and annoying
But I feel as though I can't apologize enough
To make up for and cover up
Whatever sin I may have committed against the one I am apologizing to
Because when you say it’s okay I always fear it’s not true
Because in the past those hiccups and bumps
That weren't even my fault were held against me for months
No matter the amount of times I said sorry and meant it
And the number of times I tried to fix
The mangled mess that wasn't mine but that I was still apologizing for
It was like going to war
But I waged it and gave my best effort
To stitch and sew up the jagged cuts
Of long angry nights and an alcohol filled gut
But failed and then apologized when the seams ripped and tore
Because no matter what I did was going to restore
What used to be
Or repair the damage that happened before me
And so I am sorry for that
That I couldn't make it better because I lacked
Whatever it was you were looking for
But that constant state of feeling guilty is what sent me out the door
And I am free of that weight now
But I still feel the need to say sorry for every little mistake now
Thanks to you I sound like a record stuck on repeat
So I’m sorry that I say sorry too much
But I never know when enough sorries are enough
Morning Jan 2018
My problem is that I don't follow my intuition, even though it always comes to fruition.
It took me some time to really you down. You had my head spinning, round and round.
Ignoring the clues and the giant red flags. I still blame myself for everything you did that was bad.
I trusted you with secrets, bit by bit. Was it all just too much for you? So, you had to split?
Why should I feel guilty for being ignored? I'm the only one wondering, should I have done more.
But that's the whole point of your fun and games. You emotionally strung me along like I was shackled in chains.  
How many times have I apologized, for you hurting me because you're emotionally desensitized?
for you
Alex Nov 2017
I am naked.
Not physically but emotionally.
Please don't look at me.
Not right now.
Don't you see these scars?
Turn around.
My mind is broken.
My heart is scared.
My emotions in plain sight, my soul is bared
I am naked.

i kinda fixed this poem a bit..
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