Synaesthesia

You used to tell me
my words were sweeter
than honey,
that you could taste
the saccharin
that rolls off my tongue
and flutters down
upon the paper.
My voice smelt
like the Spring breeze
that comes through
your window
(or so you've said)
that greets you every morning
in the late month of March.
I had almost touched your hand then
-almost-
as you smiled at me and
whispered that
I wrote the most colorful numbers
you've ever seen.
You said the most eclectic things,
but I've always found meaning
buried beneath them.
And though I thought you were
being funny,
you've managed to convince me
that even if the planets don't align,
everything's perfect.
I almost smiled then
-almost-
but that was when the leaves
started to let go;
like the sun,
everything began to Fall
as Winter blew a cold breeze
through your window.
And now, my words
are no longer sweeter than honey,
my voice doesn't smell like
the Spring breeze and
the numbers I write are
as dull and colorless
as this half-life you left me
to live in.

Written 04/25/12
Synaesthesia is a condition where there is a mingling of the senses due to cross-wiring in the brain. About one person in two thousand people is synaesthesiac. They can smell sounds, taste words, see numbers as colours..