"unavailable" poems
It's in the way she moves her hips
It's in the way her lips touch
It's in the way she bites her lower lip,
Oh how my world turns inside out when she does that
It's the way she says my name
In the way she whispers it, "Lefa... "
Sends shivers all over my body, goosebumps all over again
Problem is, she is taken. Unavailable
It's in the way she looks at me
All the whole new universe inside those eyes I could just get lost in
It's in the way she smiles at me
Just can't help but shy away
It's in the way she wakes all the once buried feelings,
Back from the dead with no regard whatsoever what people might say
It's in the way she makes everything around just lose sense
I know its been years but I can still feel her touch,
Soft, warm feeling
One look at her and I find myslef in high school all over again
Can still remember the very first time I laid eyes on her
Priceless, all words needed to describe her
Short stature
German-cut hairstyle
Gold earrings
Furnished with a smile
Grasshopper shoes
Short grey skirt
One hand in the pocket
Complete with the swing of her small waist when she moves
Still takes my breath away
There is still one problem, she's a taken woman
Maybe I waited a little too long
Maybe it wasn't the right time then
Is it right now?
Maybe I need a hard slap to put some sense back into me
Because right now, I'm deeply in love with a married woman
The worst problem is, I think she's in love with me too..
Aug 11, 2017
Aug 11, 2017 at 3:37 AM UTC
If there were a language for walls,
It would mumble,
Per broken jaws.
The sun would shine through fragmented holes,
A windows' lone goal?
To magnify heat,
Til' all was engulfed.
With confirmed dead inside,
None knock, as they've read inscribed:
"Family tree,
Difficulty,
Unavailable."
"Family business,
Buy one,
One comes free,
Fire wood sale."
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 12:23 AM UTC
please be impatient with me for I am Female, Age 19 Please be impatient with me. Three quarters woman in a body, a quartered quartet. The crying viola, off tempo, present but unavailable. The boys want me. The men, more, more. The women most of all. The American Girl dolls on the shelf dusty, witnesses to all my demander’s impatience to take, to own, possess & desire my poses all to pleasure them, wanting many morsos (small bites).
Then, when discarded, my body reeks of
con-f u s i o n. A perfect conjugation, an imperfect conjunction; Conning my mind into letting my body be-fused.
The dolls weep real tears in the city of my mind; flipping out, they too, are impatient with me, and flip me off for they have no good words to express their utter chagrin.
May 16, 2018
May 16, 2018 at 11:27 AM UTC
It’s been months since we last kissed
and I’ve been trying to figure out why love sounds more like an apology
than a confession when it comes from my mouth.
I came to the conclusion it’s because I have been emotionally unavailable
since I learned that no matter how much you love someone
it will not make them miss you.
I find myself surrounded by those who have left more than those who have stayed
so often they start to blur together.
You once said that loving me is like
constantly struggling to come up for air without ever being underwater,
but you didn’t notice I was suffocating under the absence of everyone
who had promised to stay.
Someone once told me “leave before they love you,
or you’ll stay until they don’t anymore.”
You were writing my name in cement and I was carving yours
in trees marked to be cut down, saying
“this is what happens when someone ruins you before you have a chance to ruin them.”
I’ve fallen in love with you more times than I can count,
and I’m not sure if that means I’ve fallen out of love just as many.
I kept showing you the way out because I wanted to see if you would leave
or find a way to lock the door.
I was too busy tearing them off their hinges
to notice you were desperately trying to bolt them shut.
I guess it’s only fitting I’m left asking the windowpanes where you went.
I think of the things I want to say to you like “it’s for the best”
and
“maybe it was never that good anyways”
but when I get the chance to say anything I know
all that will come out is I miss you, let me stay.
I’m trying not to let this bitterness leave a bad taste in my mouth
but you never saw the point of someone else’s lips on yours
unless they made your teeth shake,
and all I can ******* think about is you leaning in first for anyone but me.
The weight of your absence is so heavy
I can’t remember what it feels like to breathe without gasping.
There are a hundred different ways to say I miss you
but I’m stumbling over every single one
and I’ve realized you can only write about someone so much
before the only thing you can write about is the last time you saw them.
They say you’re only as good as the company you keep,
so I guess that’s why I haven’t been doing so well since you left me.
Jul 10, 2015
Jul 10, 2015 at 6:34 AM UTC
1270
Is Heaven a Physician?
They say that He can heal—
But Medicine Posthumous
Is unavailable—
Is Heaven an Exchequer?
They speak of what we owe—
But that negotiation
I’m not a Party to—
6.4k
I want to be a good person
for you.
I want you to look at me
how I look at you
without feeling the pain.
When we finish a conversation
I want you to smile at me
and say
“We must do this again sometime”
And I want to do it again.
I want to leave and show up again
and hug you every time.
I want to look into your eyes
and not blink.
I think I love you.
True, it is possible you are
like all the rest, and that I will
forget you and move on.
It is possible, that I am just
going through the motion of loving you.
I don’t think so though.
I think you are special.
I think that when you smile,
G-d remembers why He loves the human race.
You are the most beautiful girl
I have ever seen,
You always will be.
If only this love was
without pain.
If only you could stay,
or maybe I could go with you.
I think we would be good together.
I think you make me
truly happy, and that I
can cheer you up too.
I want to spend a day
with you.
And talk.
About anything. Everything.
You are beautiful inside and out.
It kills me when you walk by.
I know you don’t look at me
like that. It’s okay though.
It’s just, well, I think
if you thought about it
you could see us together too.
You inspire me,
but you are unavailable to me,
So that inspiration only goes so far.
And not far enough.
I love you.
It hurts me.
I even met your family
and I think they’re great.
Why are you leaving?
I can’t believe this.
My parents like you too.
I know they would.
How can’t they. You’re perfect.
I’m trying to imagine
meeting someone I’d
be with, but I can’t.
Because of you.
Because of your kindness.
Your long lovely hair.
Your unimaginable smile.
Your wit and mind.
Your laugh and your humor.
It’s all beautiful.
Everything about you makes
me hurt when I don’t
tell you “I love you”.
But I know my place.
And that’s weird.
It’s not the time or place,
or maybe even the person,
but our friendship is good
and I wouldn’t trade it for
the world. Perhaps I
will tell you some day.
Perhaps.
You are so wondrous.
I apologize that my vocabulary
is small, and I can not
do justice to you.
Perhaps I will write a song,
maybe I can tell you like that.
But words come too fast
and have too much possibility
for miscommunication and error.
I love you.
So much.
I’m out of place.
That’s why I won’t say it.
So I’ll keep it on this paper.
If only things were different.
I swear it bugs the hell out of me
that things can’t be different.
Sep 6, 2010
Sep 6, 2010 at 11:59 AM UTC
I. the smell of sad
odorless colorless like ***** similar familiar sidewinder effects,
musty invasive, it has no specificity, no locale centrale, well closeted,
saddling sadding, in place, plain sighted better to toy our lives,
pervades persists, worse lingers, impervious to sprays
and even everyone’s good literature (even Will S’s),
good wishes good intentions and mood prayers
to the nearest lay god
on duty at the spiritual emergency room on weekends,
still stink
don’t think that this poem is for you; solely for the writer,
your doppelgänger ****** your mirror’s inside hiding out place,
I,
who has your sadness smell into my skin cells creepily crept
waft woof and warp wet weft-woven
into the sad receptacles hidden in my
head’s cubbies and the palms of my tree hands-covering face
there are cures so wonderful and inexpensive but unavailable
at the local Rite Aid, though they are the right aid recoverable,
so closer than close, so close that the internist
cannot prescribe them because he must inject himself first
because the live bacteria in the antidote can **** all
this odor lays down bamboo-strong roots;
to eradicate you must dig down deep,
six feet perhaps more, with heavy earth moving equipment,
uproot at the source, follow sad always all-the-way down and the root
great god gone,
but the saddest truth
stench odor yet present***
Dec 1, 2018
Dec 1, 2018 at 10:54 AM UTC
"bleed·ing heart"
a person considered to be dangerously softhearted
feeling sorry for everything and everyone and giving in to emotions quickly.
“My heart bled today.”
Nothing new, same old routine, same old unremarkable usual thing.
They say over and over, Repetition is key. The key for what, I may never know.
Things often moving quickly halt and take on the slow.
The same people, the same faces, the same air, the same places.
I’m a person with a bleeding heart.
It’s dangerous to lead a life like mine,
Sadly you can’t escape the family bloodline.
Constantly stuck in a place between the planes.
I can’t help what’s running wild, pumping through my veins.
No rest for me. The others are already gone.
My logic quickly left along with the dawn.
My bleeding heart might just be the death of me.
I would show you I am hurting but we can’t seem to agree
I am all alone surrounded by nothing but my own suffocating thoughts.
I can’t breathe and continue to find myself at a loss.
A new beginning. The strong will live, the weak will die.
It’s tattooed into the minds of the people in the city as a nearby excuse for people like me.
Yes, there are others, but they are far out of reach, conveniently unavailable.
The rest of us have been wiped out and deemed unfavorable.
What am I?
Just an unnoticed vessel of the human soul
and all of it’s dangerously soft-hearted mannerisms.
I have a bleeding heart. I do not deny.
Left alone for the beasts to tear apart.
But I cannot help but look to the sky.
I despise my nature, my being even,
Curse my benignant soul,
And my lack of self control
What’s left for me in this cruel world?
Run by unintellectual imbeciles running off their own flawed reasoning
A divergent past, lies in ruins which was once filled with memories and happy experiences,
I was once just a kid lost in her own place, drowning and begging for help but no one came.
Perhaps, I’m not as much of a person with a bleeding heart as I possibly could be.
Perhaps, the legacy I leave behind will be nothing but a life of running away.
Perhaps my bleeding heart only bleeds in contrast to the reality around me.
“Because it is mine, it will always bleed”.
I am stuck in this life of heartache and unwelcome spilled blood, but it will be alright.
Because I won’t give up, not until I succeed.
I will make it one day, even if there is no destination, I’ll go just to see the sights.
Bleeding heart and all, I will fight the war, not backing down, but disappearing at midnight.
Mar 12, 2018
Mar 12, 2018 at 2:56 AM UTC
i live in a nothing realm. where i am temporarily frozen in a state of acceptance. yet not always approving or denying its
assistance
taking only what i see gets absorbed into the list of unimportant information that rarely gets put to use. never pondering if it will decay or stunt the growth of my
existence
i stood blank and emotionless. numb to the world around me. i was nonexistent in that parcel of a moment. for i am incapable of anything and everything that is unavailable to me in the now. only struggling
resistance
it was once brought to my vacant attention to follow through with all of the insignificant. but evaluating the differences in what is and is not can be exhausting. not enabling me to demonstrate
persistence
i can rarely display the emotions of what is appropriate for that particular time. even if the mandatory rotation of the earth was to choose to delay its turns for just a glimpse moment so that i can at a
distance
Apr 7, 2015
Apr 7, 2015 at 1:27 AM UTC
All the unavailable men come out to play
when their significant others are away
But every night
I go to sleep alone
and they return
to their homes
with their girlfriends,
fiances and wives.
Then I do this stupid thing
yeah, I fall for them-
these men
with girlfriends
fiances and wives
I make them choose
(hoping they'd choose me)
and I always lose to
their girlfriend
fiances and wives.
And I'm still alone
and I'll never win
I really ought to stop
getting involved
with unavailable men.
Apr 1, 2012
Apr 1, 2012 at 8:52 PM UTC
the thoughts never go
i realize you are unavailable,
not because you are with someone
your lack of remorse hurts.
i don't desire to stroke your ego
so i merely keep it concealed;
although every time i visit you,
the caterpillars in my stomach develop wings.
your intoxicating chorus
eases my anxious mind;
your tender kiss
absorbed directly into my veins…
but i know i am not the
one who helps you fall asleep,
for i am a man who writes
about heartbroken cries
we as men don't want to hear that ****
for intimacy and emotional exposure is dangerous
and with so much at stake
why would you make your emotional sentiments so public
because of you
you, you, you, you, you
i obviously cannot tell you
so if someone resonates with me
i can feel love from someone, somewhere.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
I'm all out of fairydust my magic wand is broke
I'm not the samaritans I have problems all my own
99% of the time I'm there for everyone
But 1% you need to know I have to be alone
I don't have all the answers I listen very well
Tough love can be hard but you need that as well
All are worlds are different some seem dark and black
I'm often there to hold your hand and try to guide you back
But for a while you are on your own I'm taking some me time
Temporarily unavailable sort your own life out
Jan 4, 2013
Jan 4, 2013 at 7:39 AM UTC
I’m smart
The kind of smart that shows up on tests.
Not the kind of smart that knows not to kiss unavailable boys
Not the kind that tells me to maybe not comment that
Not the kind that tells me to make myself happy
I’m smart
But not in the ways that count
I’m smart
So my parents have high expectations
Not just for school
For everything
I’m smart
So I have to be responsible
I have to know better
I can never sin.
I’m smart
So I can’t complain
“Everything comes easy to me”
So it’s really not that impressive.
I’m smart
But "I never actually try"
I’m not smart enough to guard my heart
I’m not smart enough to take care of myself
I’m not smart enough to say no
I’m not smart enough to save my money
I’m not smart enough to avoid temptation
I’m not smart enough to like guys who are actually available.
But hey.
I scored high on my SAT’s
So yeah
I’m smart.
Dec 7, 2015
Dec 7, 2015 at 6:29 PM UTC
Admitted to taking the reduced ruling
Fourteen souls accepted what this is after
All
Of this...
Immediately unavailable to face Sunday's showdown at
The Stadium.
The Titan gave assurances to the souls today.
It will not take any further action
-Despite the deal-
But their identity is still unknown
Some suggesting only retired evidence.
Hand in hand with sickness,
The hound (who is widely regarded)
Appears to prove why force
In recent years
Did indeed highly fancy tomorrow's feature;
"The Winner".
The hound first knew his fledgling
When he could finally be on the road
While his empire expanded
"I used to hope for the best"
Titan tells us.
"I used to have a while and
I used to get sick.
Now I just have to find a way
To use up that time.
I speak only to the Landlord
And his tenants.
I only blame myself for the sickness.
All I know is where I've come from
...At least, I think so...
...I hope so."
"It's a funny thing!"- Hound.
*Pressure keeps you honest.
Wet, heavy conditions expected tomorrow.
So, with everything said,
I wish you peace and love.
Love is waiting.*
May 14, 2015
May 14, 2015 at 7:32 AM UTC
Going Off To War (a/k/a Washing The Dishes)
When its time to wash the dishes,
I make proper preparations for this serious business,
I strip down to my skivvies (shorts, in a prior generation)
Cause there will plenty blood and gore afore too long
Soap and water flying about, the ceilings and the walls,
Not to mention big, big puddles on the floor.
Multi-colored sponges of sizes varied,
Some Brillo-sided, like extra armor on a tank,
By Dawn's early light, turn the clear water
Into a heaving, breathing soapy concoction.
Woebegone and woe betide, dried and sticky maple syrup,
You are no match for super-strength orange dishwashing solution,
Of the Greeks did praise, a single dollop packs a mighty wallop!
Ain't afraid of any stain, decomposing, half chewed, culinary rejection.
Don't even bother with rubber gloves, cause that's for sissies.
The dirtier the better, cause I love the sounds of
All out war, the rushing water, the futile screams of
Grease departing this world, down the rabbit hole,
My gleaming, victorious sinking of the enemy shipping
You think I am the first to celebrate in verse
This storied fight of right over dirt?
Recall please this famed couplet, for now be known its true inspiration!
"Oh, say can you see by the Dawn's early light
What so proudly we hailed at the twilight's last gleaming?"
Though Men Like to Load the Dishwasher (You Didn't Know?)
Is another poem of a similar ilk, when technology is unavailable,
It is fact verifiable and unassailable,
That if you give a man some room and some privacy,
Ignore the shouts and war cries from the kitchen emanating,
Male aggression can best be expiated,
When playing war games in the kitchen, a live action movie,
A video game that never grows tiresome,
And violence is necessary, for the enemy's complete annihilation.
Thank you my dear, no medal need be awarded,
Scored this poem as my just reward.
May 26, 2013
May 26, 2013 at 12:23 PM UTC
I am your side chick
Our love was burning like a candle wick
You were so unavailable
Your heart was unobtainable
I am your side chick
So just go take your pick
You make me feel so good
But you'd choose her if you could
I am your side chick
But I realized you're a ****
I thought you were the love of my life
But our love only consisted of strife
Jun 12, 2017
Jun 12, 2017 at 3:33 PM UTC
The moment you let go of the pain
You forget about her the hurt is all that remains
Im usually emotionally unavailable but im tired of being closed in
I do it to myself I pull the plug on everything
Im over starting over ive gone so far
My favorite part of the day is when my favorite song plans on the radio
Driving fast wind in my face
Blowing away my frustrations thats the time im free
I feel like me when I work up confidence to be witty
Meet new people grow as a person
Tempted to get a number make a night happen
Get away see what happens
Jan 12, 2014
Jan 12, 2014 at 2:03 PM UTC
To be perfectly clear …
I’m a nut case.
Not only a nut case, but a hard-luck case
Wrapped up nice and neat
With Saran wrap of mental maladies
And bubble wrapped with faulty perceptions
And you know what?
It’s ******* comfortable in this box.
Relaxed is a side effect of anxiety,
Like having an ****** you get tense
Then that sweet release that leaves you
Melting into the mattress, that’s what my “disorder” does to me.
And while you sit and you stare and you judge and you blame
I … smile and wipe the sweat and tears from my face.
So, to be perfectly clear.
I’m nothing but a beautifully taped box
Of stress, anger, resentment and depression
With a slight mixture of joy and pride mixed in
Waiting to be shipped off
To anyone, anywhere, away from that gaze
Of unrestrained disdain.
And so, again, to be ever so clear.
I’m what you’d call emotionally unavailable,
Damaged goods, as I’m sure you can see
The dents my last handlers left behind for me
To bash out to regain a sense of normalcy,
Then you had to come along and reveal them all again.
Thanks for that. And sorry, but the person you are trying
So desperately to reach is Unavailable.
To be perfectly clear.
Jan 15, 2012
Jan 15, 2012 at 12:11 PM UTC
i am in a complicated relationship with my depression
she is as cold as houses with old doorways and broken windows.
our love is not a fairytale.
It is a ghost story.
i never can quite get close enough to her, but I can't let go
without her, I am that same house but with no furniture
without her; I am a garden with nothing to harvest:
an indigo night sky with no stars.
she doesn't let me leave,
other people are loaded guns to her,
and she can't let their gaze meet mine
they are gypsies,
and she's afraid I'm going to see the future in their irises.
a future where I know love as more than just the concrete used to fill the sidewalk that is my broken heart.
our relationship is a burning house,
it is empty wine bottles,
and sleepless nights.
she is drought in summer,
and forest fires in autumn.
nothing can grow in the soil of my soul anymore.
there is nothing beautiful left.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 3:46 PM UTC
sometimes i am emotionally unavailable on purpose.
i put my phone under my pillow so i can't hear it beep and buzz and twang
i turn off my facebook chat and ignore your messages.
i don't even do it because i can't handle it
i can handle anything
i was born with an innate sense of determination
and morality
but sometimes i feel the need to be an unattached *******
just to see what it's like
i'll go on youtube and watch ****** videos
i'll even laugh
when i know that somewhere you're feeling like i do all the time
i won't give a single ****
not even a tiny pang will reach my carefully wired heart
right now it's plugged into too many other things that are ******* the energy out of it
to take note
i hope you feel ******* terrible
i'm not even bothered
i will be later
but not now
message away...
la,
la
can't hear you,
can't hear you.
Dec 9, 2013
Dec 9, 2013 at 9:19 PM UTC
By accepting the terms of this agreement, you represent and warrant that you have the capacity to love.
Any similarity to a previous love is circumstantial; this love is not affiliated with other loves.
We assume no responsibility for for the shortcomings of prior loves;
we do, however, assume all responsibility for any loss, error, or communication failure incurred while in possession of this love.
It is, after all, love.
Love is available as is; no specific results are promised.
If you are at all unhappy, you are encouraged to return love.
If you find love to be damaged or defective, well, it's love.
Slight imperfections are to be expected, and add to the character of love.
Love may occasionally send you poems, letters, or declarations of its continuance. If you wish to opt out of this correspondence, you may cancel your account at any time.
The service may be temporarily unavailable from time to time; this may be due to maintenance, or periods of reflection. It in no way implies or forecasts termination of love, unless specifically stated so.
By accepting this agreement, you agree not to abuse love by acting in a manner inconsistent with the provisions listed above.
(please say yes)
Feb 9, 2011
Feb 9, 2011 at 2:19 PM UTC
Unread
Unsaid
Undone
Unsung
Understand
Undo
Unlike
Unloved
Unafraid
Unattached
Unavailable
Unceasing
Uncanny
Unclean
Unzipped
Unusual
Unprintable
Jul 17, 2016
Jul 17, 2016 at 7:01 PM UTC
We are too nice for our own good
You said "We should have a nice race,
But I would let you go first"
I laughed, fingers crossed my keyboard
"Yeah but I would throw the race."
I replied grinning ear to ear.
No one's talked to me like this in ages
I often stare at empty pages
When they discover I have a husband
Conversations often get bland.
I assumed it's because I'm unavailable
Why invest the time?
Perhaps it's because I'm unavailable
They don't want to cross a line.
Charisma plus 5
Charm is a crit. Success
Why do I want you to think I'm pretty?
Is that why I wore this dress?
I don't want an affair,
It's just a girly crush
On the man finally brave enough
To be too nice for his own good.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 11:56 AM UTC
Unavailable for your games and wicked schemes :
Unavailable for your nonchalant attitude and your confusing words .
Unavailable for my voice constantly repeating the same thing to you and not being heard .
Unavailable for your lies .
Unavailable for your high pride .
Unavailable for your “ Cocky persona “ when others are watching .
Unavailable for the countless “ I’m sorry and “I’ll do better” .
I’m unavailable for the broken promises
And the missed calls , and putting up with you through it all.
I was always available to you but you were always “ unavailable ” to me .
So now I’m unavailable because I’m tired of trying.
No more excuses ,
mind games ,
and crying
Unavailable to you and anyone else
Who think this type of relationship is satisfying .
.
May 27, 2019
May 27, 2019 at 9:04 PM UTC