Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
The Whisper Aug 2014
Fading away, into my mind.

The face that I loved,
And still love very much,
The soft hands that I pined for,
That I still long to hold,
Manifest into a world
Where our love never died.

In. My. Mind.

Those lovely warm hands
Find their way into mine.
That smile that I love
Is a mirror of mine.
And with that beautiful face,
Warmth finds my heart.

The same feeling I get when I see a full moon.

For when I remember something beautiful....

I always remember you.

Us

We.

And everything that we dreamt that we would be.

Young and in love.
No future intact.

In my dreams.

Where there is no time.
Where there is no purpose.

Things simply exist because they can.

I cherish these moments that we spend in my mind.

That I spend with you.

That stay with me when I

Awaken.
Inspired by a dream that I had in which I rekindled an old flame.
I still love her to this day.

What could've been, hmm?
The Whisper Aug 2014
Paranoia.
Explain it to me.
Help me understand the fear that lies within me.
Why I suddenly feel that my candle of life,
Is quickly burning away at both ends of the stick.

The fear, the fear.
It continues to grow.
From the seeds of paranoia that I personally sow.
Is it all in my head, or is the danger really there?
None the less, the uncertainty is what I cannot bear.

Every cigarette I've had.
Every time my throat aches.
There is no medication for regrets and mistakes.
Ignoring the warnings does not make them untrue.
Being ignorant can only lead to the downfall of you.

Diabetes or Cancer?
Malignant or Benign?
Everyone tells me that I'm, *probably fine
.
But they don't understand that the battle inside,
Is convincing myself that it's all in my head.

It's nothing. It's nothing.
Miguel, you're okay.
These are the mantras that I repeat every day.
To myself in my head, or out loud when alone.
Hoping that one day my health will atone.
Hypochondria. I don't know why, but suddenly I've been giving a huge crap about my health. To the point where it actually keeps me up at night. I just had to let out my frustrations somehow. So here's a window into the anxiety that I feel.
The Whisper Jul 2014
Please write with your hearts,

And your complicated minds.

Our words bring wonder.
I tip my hat to all my fellow writers. I love reading your work.
The Whisper Jul 2014
All the time,
I'm suffering.

Living is slowly suffocating.

I'm afraid to die.
I don't want to die.

But waiting for death seems to be the only way,
I can keep myself from getting pulled under.

Death lingers in the back of my mind,
Keeping me afloat.
Keeping me alive.

Because when I die, I can only expect one thing.

*The Truth.
The Whisper Jul 2014
As I sigh, I pat my pockets
And search for an old friend.
Seeking comfort and consolation
In someone I know all too well.

A pure white cigarette with a cotton filter.
I place it in my mouth and light the end.
A familiar greeting. A firm handshake.
Then we begin our conversation.

I take a long drag from my dear old friend.
He pats me on the back.
He tells me that I will be okay.
He gives me the strength that I lack.

Another long puff with a cough at the end.
Five minutes of my life that I'll never get back.
Five minutes of life taken from me,
In exchange for a glimmer of solace.

Holding my friend, I take a deep breath.
Inhaling the oxygen I need.
Then I fill my lungs with smoke.
As I feel the comfort slipping away.

My friend is gone; my friend is done.
I flick his remains away.
Although he is gone, he will soon return.
Helping my body decay.

My solace has disappeared.
I'm back to the way that I felt before.
My former feelings, now magnified.
Leaving me unsatisfied.
"A cigarette is the perfect type of a perfect pleasure. It is exquisite, and it leaves one unsatisfied. What more can one want?" - Oscar Wilde
The Whisper Jul 2014
I
I
I am.
Human.
Intelligent.
Selfish,
Yet selfless.
Contradictory.
I am.

I
I fear.
Love.
Sacrifice.
Death.
But I,
I believe.
In love,
sacrifice,
and death.

I
I want.
I lust.
I crave.
I have.
I need.
I feel...

I am.

I.
A poem that focuses on the individuality. A generalization of the way we use, "I" and how I can use it to define what it means to be human, in my perspective.
The Whisper Jun 2014
Desire* is the tinder.
The oxygen.
The fuel.

Inspiration is the spark.
Igniting the flame.
Starting a fire.

Determination is the burn.
The intensity of the heat.
Giving you purpose.

Success is the light that shines from the flame.
Shining bright in the darkness
Of a world that is cold.

The fire burns in the hearts of those who long to drink
From the spring of knowledge; From the fountain of joy.

But no matter how much you try to quench your thirst...

**This fire will continue to burn all the days of your life.
Next page