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Emily Hammer Nov 2013
He fell in love with the way she slightly parted her lips when she was almost asleep
But not quite
He fell in love with the way she wore large glasses for fun
And how she would bite her pinkie to hold in a laugh
The laugh in which he loved
He loved that she had three freckles in a triangle below her left eye
And the way she tilted her head when she was thinking about very important things
He fell in love with her eyes and the way they longed for him
He loved being wanted
He fell in love with the pitter-patter of her feet on their bedroom floor
Because that meant she was thinking too much and he could hold her
And make her fell okay for just a night
He loved being wanted

He loved her for everything she was and everything she was not

He was falling out of love with the drool on her pillow
He thought it was silly she wore large glasses for no reason
And how she always had bite marks on her pinkies
He began to find her laugh very loud  too loud and always ringing in his ears
He was falling out of love with the three freckles beneath her left eye
Or was it her right eye?
And he defiantly did not love the way her head was cocked when trying to decide between one ply or two
Or the way she always was looking at him
He hated her clinginess
He fell out of love with the noise she made at night
He never woke up anymore
He hated her desperation

He did not love the little things about her anymore and he was not in love
samantha page  Sep 2016
samantha page Sep 2016
they say I'm clingy. tell me something I don't already know.
maybe it's because of all the times I've missed out
because I wasn't there at the right moment.
or maybe because if I'm not around them,
I have nowhere to be.
and I hate that.
people are constantly with their friends, yet
they are never called clingy because they're friends
so then how can I achieve this friend status?
it's said that when you're around people a lot,
they're more likely to unconsciously like you.
but where's the line between that and clinginess?
tell me that. it's something I don't know.
W Winchester Apr 2015
Not he/she/they but "the borderline"
The borderline imagines this elaborate fantasy to be necessary
the borderline turns to clinginess
the borderline may exhibit narcissistic symptoms
the borderline the borderline the borderline

the borderline-
a chalk marking on the sidewalk

the borderline-
trees separating territories

the borderline-
a sign stating do not cross

not me
I am human

but since I'm a 'borderline'
you wouldn't know that

would you?
I'm a trainwreck
Daniel Samuelson Sep 2014
An ever-growing list of things that I can't fix
a set of scribbles on a blank lined page
a lifetime of regretful (in)decisions
a stack of unstamped postcards that I swear I meant to send
my clinginess, my neediness
a drawer full of unused paper clips
two eyes that work too well to see what lies beneath the skin
a mouth that I may never learn to tame
two ears that someday soon will cease to hear
a cluttered, clumsy, cumbersome soul
two hands with scars and calloused fingertips
a mind that only ever thinks of you
two legs that don't know where the hell to go
a heart that's only satisfied when beating next to yours...

And this is all I have to give to you.
Hi, HP! It's been too long.
I've been spending a lot of time in nature for my ecopsychology class, and thought I'd be more inspired to write poetry this semester. But, life gets in the way. Penned this in a few minutes of downtime during a class. Enjoy!
Corvus Apr 2017
Recipe for codependency.

- Cripplingly low self-esteem.
- A mind that over-analyses everything.
- Clinginess.
- Empty, hollow feelings in the chest.

Optional for decoration and added tastiness:
- Chronic illness.
- Love.

Take all ingredients and pour them into a bowl unceremoniously;
The more carelessly, the better the batter.
Measurements aren't required, feel free to experiment
And tweak the quantities to suit your own preferences.
Take your fists and punch down, hard, repeatedly,
Until the emptiness in the chest feels full.
If you have a bigger appetite,
You might prefer to throw in some more punches.
Stop when extensive bruising appears on the chest
And you feel an immense swelling in the heart area.
The throbbing feels like a heartbeat,
And that's when you know you're on the right track.
Bake in an oven fueled with the fiery arguments
Or the passionate distractions from reality; whichever is hottest.
Day two of NaPoWriMo, which is to write poem inspired by or in the form of a recipe.
When we find ourselves
by the once-again
betwixt a barest bare
season (of not-there)
and the rock-hard
reason (for there-is), let’s

Place the lemon-sour wedge,
where it can be tasted
with expectantly peppered
peeks and the snowy soft pines
for a gifted we we’ve been
too white-elephant
wary to unwrap.

There’s a transplant
future. We pretended
it (to-be
forever sutured to our bristly back-
then), and it meets the it
it was beneath a scrub-brush
Christmas tree we’ve stowed

Carelessly in the cramped space
where our sameness
lets crawl the other. Tinseled,
pre-assembled, past-
their-prime-time specialty
brands of static
clinginess have diminished,

But not-enough,
as the persistence of any-man
attraction shows,
would if it could bring
Whitman’s samplers
of sentimentality
to cuddly bear on a leftover

Choice (What’s-next,
warmed over and over). We
will stick to it,
fuzzy ornaments
on the crackly loud, paper-
thin present. We didn’t give
up but we did give away

Boxed-up angels
in exchange for one red-ribbon
day, its frilly bow tying us
so tightly to
the pressed-down rule
of our highest of highly
evolved thumbs.
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 3.0 License.
Slipping between
Boredom and obsession
Love and clinginess
But I have a confession--
Without you I'm bored
Right out of my mind
You are my muse
And that's hard to find
Yes, I adore you
Always wanting to hang out
Just to be in your presence
That's what I'm all about
Don't be afraid
For I'm sure you have seen
This, I confess
Is what I'm slipping between
Not who you (might) think this is about.
OnwardFlame Mar 2016
Moon and night sky wears on
Thinkin' about what drew me in
Like a lasso around shooting stars
Red flags surrounding me like nails in the earth
Cracks I avoid with my feet
I remember when I was a little girl
And we would all hiss and chime
"Step on a crack, break the devil's back!"

I wonder whats underneath all the mulch, the worms
I use to imagine Satan as a little red tainted fire faceless droid
Never ever fully seeing his face
But watching his back breathe and pound heavy from behind
As he looked down and around
At his fiery pit.

There was a time
Where I would look out my window
A drunken night or two
Or find you through the maze of my back porch
Bring you inside, it was so worth it I thought
So little sleep, so little sleep
But you showed me in the end
How very little, you fully loved
And respected me
Perhaps there are those that don't like how I went
Or bebopped away, you could say
But I had to go my own way.

I stay true to that
Relieved that if you uttered a sound, I would not know
6 months. Stay true, I coach myself through.

A handsome rebound, eye candy filled distraction
Stepping stone from home base where I thought I could be safe
But you're in love with a woman in Germany.

You texted me today, you had more to say
Spilled your guts a lil bit, I've said so little
I know that if I gave you the okay
You would be over here and on top of me
Right this moment.

But why bother. Why waste time
I think back on listening to the podcast
Where Peter Pan worshipped the bodies of women
And had nothing clear, intelligent, or deep to say
Realizing for the first time
Remembering just how
Your friends noticed you got all "deep and philosophical"
When I entered the room
You tried to blend into the wall paper of my heart
Adapt, transform, keep up
But you fell so very very very far behind
I could see it happening so clearly
I cried out for help in the littlest ways
And I think you tried a time or two
But at my darkest
It was you, you, you.

Just like The Joker said last night
Theres somethin' 'bout these 24 year old men
City men, they think they got it all
Trying to be grown up but drinkin' out of sippy cups
As the internet turns me off from the clinginess of others
I said I was gonna take a break
As the Sound Operator ran my way
Only to yes, yes
Be another disappointment.

I give up
What a freeing thing.
xmxrgxncy Jun 2016

In order for this business relationship to be beneficial to both parties, here is what to expect, and what I'll expect in return.

I expect you to give me attention, especially when I plead that I don't need it. I expect sweet messages sent at random that don't hold any relevancy to what we're experiencing. I expect truth, loyalty, and respect. I expect your time.

In return, you can expect being loved until you wish you had never met me in the first place, being attentively looked after but not to the point of clinginess. You'll be privy to poems, songs, and ideas penned about you frequently, and you'll never be alone. Your heart will be mine to guard and to keep not as my own but as ours. And know this; I will never leave.

Terms for this agreement are thus; time will be made for the other party. I will not have to experience a breakup over the phone because you won't make time to see me after six months of what I thought was love. We won't have to make excuses about how we're still hanging in there; if things don't work, they don't work.

And finally, we must agree to be mutually exclusive.

Under these conditions- which are for the most part immobile but are open to suggestion- and these conditions only will this business agreement be not only agreed upon but maintained. Any breach of this contract will result in...well.

Term to end: hopefully, never.

Just sign the dotted line, here.

This is what I want in a relationship. I just want to be loved the way I want to love another person. I'm so sentimental, I do better when I have someone to dote on and someone to give me attention in return. I don't really expect much, though. No one in my generation knows how to have an actual relationship that relies on being in contact with their significant other. But that's what I want. That being said, I guess I've resigned myself to not expecting full recompense from my future significant other in return, because I know that that's just not how society today works, it's not their fault. But I can hope.
E l l e  Nov 2017
Kinda like Acne
E l l e Nov 2017
You're kind of like acne.

The first time I thought you, I was happy
I thought this was the first sign of growing up

You were a big milestone, you know.

After about a year I'd had enough of you
with your clinginess and infectious presence

I knew you had to leave.

My heart wanted you gone
and my body seemed to love you

I just wanted out, but I didn't know how.

Then came the extreme measures
I even had to see an expert

I'm sorry it came to this.

Now you're gone but I still see reminents
of what you did to me

I cover you up everyday.

But then I realize everyone knows what it's like
Everyone knows it's not a big deal

To have a little acne every once in a while.
prompty  Dec 2016
prompty Dec 2016
I remember the most beautiful moment of my life.
I couldn't have been 4.

Everybody was gathered in the park,
a gathering to watch the sunset
and there was music playing.

This was a single moment lost in the 90s fever:
The singer had just died,
and I think we were celebrating his poetry
or his clinginess to life.

But at the same time, nobody was talking about it.
There was just silence and the sunset -
a meaningless collection of sensations
to all but a childish mind.

I've since tried to talk to some of the people I reckon were there,
but none of them recall any of it happening.

They would have me believe
the best moment of my life
was a dream.

— The End —