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Whisper

Who am I to distinguish emotional mentality and sense in self? That I truly know of love’s penetration, the genuine, pure emotion that signifies the pulse of your veins, the ecstasy of heart?

What did I have to represent to myself, to you, all those years that have blown by? For the beat in your eyes sparks like flaming blood, musing as they bask in the softening of my own.

To imagine that this feeling within me, as intense and pure as my bones, is a false recognition, an over-proportioned conclusion -- to imagine my quick interpretation of the newly acknowledged high, you could possibly think a joke?

Could you be unaware of the connection that I feel? For being many forms of lying, you cannot lie to the heart -- I can not lie and say that your touch doesn’t differ from any other; I can not lie and say that your heart is dark and soulless; I can not lie and say your soul does not embrace -- for my heart divides the truth from the lies, and to simply say your eyes are not like fire, that your voice does not lick up my veins that tremble with quickened blood -- would mask the truth in my words, but glow in my dishonest eyes.

For believe me when I say, my heart has a whisper: a caressing, breathy destination that it murmurs in my mind. It envelopes itself in the distinction of that originality, that will combine with one that holds it close, acknowledges the fears I feel and I happiness I possess, just in the light your eyes reflect.

Who could destine that your gentle fingers would fit so conjoining in mine, that your skin would be as lavish as the sky’s warm breath -- how could my eyes look past your face till now? To think that my eyes once whispered to your heart, enabling your lips to speak the words that have withheld since within me; to think that I didn’t concede your existence, as you did mine, as such a senseless mistake, to ignore the only person that I ever could want of others that will never matter...
When with you, all earth would expand, surpassing its original heights; heaven would smile upon us as we join hand in hand and face the depths of the earth in one another’s embrace. Our eyes would both speak, in a whisper so adoring and familiar in its beat, waves of vibration passing through the touch of our fingertips.
In the dark and good times, you’d be there to hold me close and keep me there forever. We’d breathe the same air; kiss only each other’s lips.
The night would become alive as day, and the sun would probe with intensity like the fluid in your eyes, like the throb of blood, whispering softly in my mind.




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M... said...
Mar. 24, 2009 at 8:56 pm:
hey!
email me at mluther121@gmail.com
ttyl
 
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ezsmilesannemarie said...
Jan. 5, 2009 at 8:58 pm:
Well, we all have our strengths. For me, I need to practice analytical writing, because I include my feelings when they're not allowed. lol. I focus a lot on emotions, and I enjoy writing about them. So that makes my logical writing a little difficult, because I'm too imaginative. I think you're better at argument writing: when you need to express your opinion, you do it fiercely, making a real statement. Like with that whole Obama and McCain deal? You blew it out of the park. lol.
 
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artofthedeath said...
Jan. 2, 2009 at 1:31 am:
You do best with emotions, describing them and what not. I found this very soulful, and sometimes I wonder if you are a better writer than me. Lol. You are in this sense. Maybe I should practice... ;D
 
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