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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
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.
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
*-(e.h)
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.
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
and
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!
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.
When we find ourselves
bewitched
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.
Odd Odyssey Poet Jul 2022
The pools of eyes; like tears of a sea,
the virtue of dreams. Morals in the
pursuit of laurels.

Even with the strength of Hercules,
still weakened as only being human; in part.
In solitude of dark thought—a deathless
night, looms like a menace of juvenile desire.
Lust and confusion, a drudgery of chasing eyes.
Such a defiance of love: Clinginess of flesh wanting
flesh—vexations of our once selves.

We've all been young.

Nurture maturity, to teach those behind early,
for their grapes to be full in seasonal vines.

Teach 'em as due course,
as 'verly so, you've once been taught.
As a given,
an open hand of the gift of handing
down wisdom.
xmxrgxncy Jun 2016
Contract;

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.

____________X
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.
I hate being clingy but can't help it.

I miss you, I've been thinking about you, about us.
I miss the days we talked everyday, all night.
And I don't mind the red flags you possess,
because I only think about positive about you and obsess.
Even though we never dated, I still am clingy and annoying over you.
I'm sorry.
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.
Kewayne Wadley Feb 2018
Currently there isn't a price on all the things That I love.
Depending on the situation I still check my pockets.
The places I go I am not use to exiting without pulling out my wallet.
Though it's not much, the minimum amount of your time provides the same thrill.
It's hard to disagree with a good heart.
Our opinions may be different but it's decent.
Our life evolving into deep quotations.
The revolution against cash registers everywhere has begun.
The clinginess of change and dollar bills.
Slices of our time stuffed and slid into the opening of each others mouth.
The trouble with that is we choose to label everything with price.
Ignoring common sense for cents.
I ignore my pockets whenever you are around as nothing of value can be found there.
I tread softly as more of your time creates more currency.
And I can't jeopardize losing that.
There isn't a career that can fill my wallet like you fill my heart.
No time clock anywhere that could justify.
Come tax time you are my greatest asset.
Come payday you are the currency I seek
Maria Monte Apr 28
At first,  
I am every story you’ve ever loved:  
the girl with wild eyes and a crooked smile,  
the glitterbomb dropped into your heavy life.  
I am the Manic Pixie Dream,  
softened and sharpened just right,  
scripted to be the key you didn’t know you lost.  

I love it, too.  
I love playing her.  
I love the way I can become  
everything I thought I couldn't be—  
light, brave, impossible.  
I fall in love with the girl they see,  
the one who spins in the rain,  
who kisses like it’s a dare,  
who never stays still long enough  
for anyone to notice the cracks.

For a while,  
I even forget the weight of myself.  
For a while,  
the mirror throws back someone I almost recognize,  
someone almost worth keeping.

But the days grow teeth.  
The seams split.  
My clinginess stops being "cute,"  
my mess stops being "quirky,"  
my fear starts leaking through the paint.  

Then I remember:
I'm not magic.  
I'm work.  
I'm a maze with no ending.  
I'm a mouthful of needs no one knows how to swallow.

And they start seeing it too.  
The way I flinch when they look too long.  
The way my laugh gets hollow.  
The way I start pleading through my eyes,
"Please, please don't look closer."

I know how this ends.  
The Dream Girl dies the moment she becomes real.  
Nobody writes sequels for the ones who stay.

So I run.  
I tear the script from my hands,  
I rip the costume at the seams.  
I run before they can stop loving the idea of me,  
before they have to face the weight of who I am  
beneath the glitter and noise.

I find a new stage,  
a new pair of arms,  
a new chance to believe in the girl I invented—
if only for a little while longer,
If only to live in someone else's dreams,
If only to forget the weight of waking up.
I am utterly disgusted with myself for leaning into a very misogynistic archetype, but also, it feels good to love myself through someone else's eyes. Yeah, I know it's bad. I'm working on it. I just slip so often.
Vhien Miguel Jul 2018
Forgive me my love, for I always want you
All I expect is for you to want me that much too
Be afraid when I’m about to leave, clinginess and everything else
At times, I might be stubborn, but not to forget till my hair is no auburn,
I will love you, ‘till my dying day
By your side I will always lay
If your happiness would need me without
I love you so much, I would gladly walk out
For that will give mein liebing joy,
I have no say, just for you to enjoy,
Mostly, I could be stupid, yes I know
But I feel bad when I give you sorrow
Answer my questions, I’ll keep on asking ‘till there’s no tomorrow
Be patient with me, don’t be cold as snow,
Please stop being snappy,
That doesn’t make me happy,
All I want every time is to see you smile,
Even if that would send me off a mile.
Amanda Kay Burke Dec 2020
I strive to suffer in silence
Determined to hide pain
This charade is exhausting
Driving me insane

I do not want you to know how much I care
I long to hold you close
I keep a safe proximity
Acting as if you were a ghost

You swear you want to see me
You only want to come home
If that were true you would be here
Was your choice to roam

I bite back words I wish I could say
You are the reason why I breathe
If I was honest about my feelings
Weakness would be clear to see

It was clinginess that initially drove you away
Now that your interest has returned
Must be cautious not to seem too eager
Or else heart again will be burned

I do not know why your lies taste sweet
None of them are real
Guess I'm too in love to control my desire
Or change attraction I feel

Over and over you destroy emotions
As if relationship is a game
Hate myself for tolerating damage
Unconditional love staying the same

I have to draw line somewhere
How much manipulation do you expect me to take?
If you loved me like promising you do
Instead of harm you would try to heal my ache
I don't understand..
pj Mar 2016
Hey.
I hope you, I mean I, don't have to read this.

Ever.

But here we go.

*Dear self,
Why would you want him again?

I know he is the most perfect person you have ever met
but know this,
he isn't.

He has long nose hairs that always poke out of his nose
He laughs in a weird way, like a choking person
He eats A LOT ((you wouldn't want a fat husband don't you))
His mom isn't really fond of you
His brother is a huge *******

He also doesn't stand being patient when you are angry
He told you that you annoyed him with your clinginess
He doesn't miss you like you do everyday
He never really want to go out with you and be happy with it
He doesn't have the effort to reach out to you
He doesn't care what you're feeling and why
He doesn't look at you like the best thing he has ever seen anymore

I should stop. You would cry if I write more. I know you, me.

I know you miss him like crazy
But bear with it, okay?
You will get over it.

Always stay strong for yourself, please.
27 03 2016

The day he crushed your remaining hope.

He doesn't want you anymore. But that doesn't mean you worth less.
Mr Xelle Jul 2016
In a room where the lights are turned off...a city away and I'm still reminded of the place the right I did the wrong I commit the love I shared the hate that I abolished tormenting fragments of sadness is here but somehow lol low gladness laying here as baggage across the threaded african American.
Holding my pillow like it was you with a "sorry for my clinginess note"..but seeing you do with another is like a show that I use to be apart of. I'm done with the hype
I'm donw with the hurt
I'm done wig when I see you we act like we're not hurtin...
The times I wanted to make it right
But if I reach out it's like I'm the one that's walking backwards
Louis G Jan 2019
Sent. Delivered. Seen.
My intentions are Clean
Your cold Replies
I just hope no Lies

Every time we talk
I feel this knock
Beats in my heart
You're my sweetheart

I know I am Annoying
Sometimes Clinging
For you, Busy or Not
I'd Reply Fast, I ought

Bored?, Just Fine
Bitter as Wine
Please open up
Your sadness you can't cover up

Bored with me
Leaving? feel free..
I never expected
for this day to to be created

The day you leave
Is the day I grieve
Good bye
Just.. Why

Seen, Typing, Received.
Oh why'd i Believed
Your simple Sweetness
Made Bitter Endless

I've been feeling something for you
Hell This feeling I can't get used to
But you're fading..
You're leaving..

'How am i?'
I am Fine
But I cry
As you drew the Line

Goodbye it is
No more Reply
'Convo Ended' it says
Bang Bulls Eye

Thank you for hanging
with My Silliness
My Annoyingness
My Clinginess

Just know this
You were my Happiest Hello
And my Saddest Goodbye
At least now i know, You'd leave
with that warm smile
Sketcher Nov 2018
I remember the day I came to meet you for the first time in early August,
I remember being invited back at least once every week for two and a half months,
I remember the special look you gave me and what it meant,
I remember how you sought human contact around me and how you acted henceforth,
I remember the awkward sliding beneath my legs and how it became a norm,
I remember the unrelenting clinginess that I so desired,
I remember you grabbing me by the arm and taking me somewhere nobody could find us,
I remember the moistness of your lips against mine,
I remember the full weight of your body on mine as you nestled against me,
I remember the regret you felt,
I remember the regret i felt once I perceived your shame,
I remember the persistent, yet subtle avoidance,
And I still come across your circumvention resulting in mass amounts of pain to this day.
My first poem (48th poem ever) that doesn't involve any rhyming.
Norbert Tasev Nov 2024
You have become what you never wanted to be in your whole life; closed book, closed door. You never denied yourself in a million ways, because you were guided by "be true to yourself" in your shipwrecked life; even so, you were pushed aside many times, trampled on, deliberately laughed at, and amidst the shackles and cries of public shaming, at least one person who would honestly lift you up would have been fine , and it helps.

A deafening silence embraces you with wailing despair, eternal promises that come to nothing, just like ice drops, sooner or later start to melt. You can't really warm up to a single word now, since most of those who stayed out there betrayed you a bit by always only promising their affairs and that they would visit you in a dignified and faithful manner. Your convulsive clinginess has become more of a curse than a blessing.

Distances have been impassable for a long time, because you don't know who's motivations might lie behind each manipulative, petty-puffing decision?! Ghost-shadows lying on the edge of alleys comfort your stubborn temper, even if you go behind the scenes of a sparsely lit, dim street detail. Now, all time-wasting rants are grouped into senseless, cacophony.

Your truth-begging sadness, just like your self-conscious orphanhood, is still holding on, but - maybe - not for long. You still have to somehow scrape together tooth and nail and preserve your inner independent freedom, while - for now - they can't censor it, and they can't even ban it. The grim, rowdy, petty man-million damns me! As a stone on the side of the road, somehow you're just out there listening more and more humbly!
clinginess is my predilection
hugs from behind
being held in another's arms
soft kisses pressed against my lips
caressing my skin
running their fingers through my hair
love letters expressing their feelings
meaningful gifts just because
shared smiles
comfortable silence
hours of talking about everything
and nothing
clinginess is my predilection
predilection: a preference or special liking for something; a bias in favor of something
Ananya Dubey May 2021
On a usual Sunday,

Dad sits alone in front of the television.

The loud noise of which,

douses mom's voice, making her

repeat her question for the third time.

Little does she know, that the noise

douses the voices in his head as well.

On a usual outing,

as Dad starts chatting with a stranger,

as if they were old chums,

mom shakes her head in exasperation.

Little does she know, that extroversion

is just a mask, which hides his real self.

In a usual gathering,

Dad starts debating on a recent event,

Which has little to do with him.

I always thought him to be eloquent.

Little did I know, that that is the only way,

he evades talking about himself.

On a usual day,  Dad says that

he will go to the market with us,

even if it means taking a leave from office.

Mom gets a little frustrated at his clinginess.

Little does she know, that he feels all alone,

and is afraid to lose us too.

On a usual evening,

Dad tries, but can't call his own mom.

He wants her affection as his brother gets,

Only to be blamed on each call,

for the things he didn't do.

Little does he know, that I've seen him

on those days, holding his tears,

and cracking his old jokes.

On usual days, Dad stays at home.

When prodded to go out,

He says, he has nowhere to go.

So he sits and scrolls through his phone,

Little does he know, that even today,

He is searching for a warm home.
Bayli Sanders Sep 2019
Dear future husband
I thought I knew who you were
Silly naïve me huh?
I thought I knew that your smile was the one I wanted to smile back at forever.
I thought that your arms were the ones that would pick me back up after every tumble in life.
I thought your soft brown hair would be the hair I ran my fingers through until I can’t.
I thought that I would get to stare into those deep brown eyes until I go blind from the brightness of your personality.
But instead
Your smile turned into a snarl and tore me apart
Your arms were the ones that pulled away from me if we ever disagreed on a topic crossing angrily in front of you.
Your soft luscious brown hair became off limits because you thought that I was too clingy.
Your deep brown eyes are now so full of hatred.
But instead
I didn’t blame you.
I blamed myself for every problem we ever had.
I blamed my clinginess for why your grades were slipping.
I blamed myself for the house being a mess from you sitting there all day.
I blamed myself for your car breaking down because I told you to go have fun.
I blamed myself for your anger because I am always to blame.
So instead
I broke.
And you threw those shards into the trash.

— The End —