An experience

that it cannot be expressed


is what's called synesthesia.

Let me explain now:

The sound of your jacket is

loud to my skin. It

hurts sometimes, yet I want to

pull you closer now.

Synesthesia; do you see?

The sight of your voice

is the dusk of the grand sky.

It blinds my ears, love,

but please, do not stop speaking.

Synesthesia: more.

The taste of your bright smile

is almost too sweet

for my eyes to handle, yet

I persist to look.

Synesthesia; you still there?

The smell of your tears

as they fall upon my skin

is a redolent

memory of pain and joy.