I am what you might call
'emotionally unavailable'
which here in this case means
I am so invested in a person
that doesn't consider me even
a slightly viable option that it hurts...
Me confessing my feelings to her
was very hard indeed
I felt like a child trying to
reach to the top shelf of the cupboards,
they wait and wait and wait
until they're big and tall enough
and they reach up
and their hand
feels nothing but empty space
all hope dashed in a split second
But she is not a shelf
and I am not a child
and my feelings towards her
are more than any child
will ever feel towards any shelf
but I can't have her
and I never will
So I fuck
and kiss and sleep with them
the other girls
the girls that aren't her.
The girls that make me forget
about her for a couple hours,
the girls that make me think
there may be a glimmer of hope
that I may forget about her
once and for all,
hoping their lipstick may wash
away the stains and marks
she left on me with the
kisses I wish she
gave me
But they never do
She's still here and I
desperately wish
that she wasn't
- Not Mine. -
YOU ARE READING
My Dark Poems
PoetryTitle says it all. - They are not all dark, either. - And there is a few scary stories I found. Note: None of this is like, personal, or true, I convert my anger and depression into these poems. Some have meaning, others don't. Also there is a slig...
