Synesthetist
Ringing red lips, resounding around the room.
Aniseed accent, lingering for me to lick off after.
Trembling taste.
And you smell blindingly bright.
While your pheromones take lightest flight on softest feathers.
And in a million more ways than I can convey.
You impress yourself upon me.
But I can’t say.
Because the words are wrong.
Not at all applicable.
No one knows what it means for eyes to chime.
Or how a song can spin.
I worry when the iceberg looks down and sees only the surface of the sea.
What it must think.
Wondering why it doesn’t sink.
And all I want to tell you is
You’re more.
3
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