in psychology
our professor gave a lecture on synesthesia
something he calls a miswiring of the brain
and something i call love
because when you speak
your voice feels like velvet
when you touch me
your skin sounds like music
and when your lips brush against mine
they are butterflies
cotton candy
thunder
and flames
all at once
my body turns to gallium
melting into yours
and when you hold me
i am C4
a mixture of pressure
tension
fire
ready to explode in a moment’s notice
when we fight
every insult is a red hot pepper
salty tears burning cheeks
tea kettle screeching
fire alarm blaring
dinner burning
air filled with a smoky stench
and then comes dessert
gelato apologies
cooling our tongues
the soft tapping of spoons against bowls
(neither of us really wanted chili for dinner anyways)
we are blue
and embrace once again

I know how neurons exchange information, how electrical signals pass through the dendrite, then axon, then synapse. I know each lobe of the brain, their functions, their faults, the gyri, the sulci, synergy, rigidity; but no lecture, no slideshow, no professor, no book, and no poem can define my love for you.

here’s to the background characters
the couch potatoes
the channel surfers
the participation trophy winners
here’s to the where’s waldos
the red shirts
elevator music composers
here’s to netflix and chillers
the less-than-thrillers
here’s to poptart eaters
and all the plot fillers
here’s to people watchers
and silent notetakers
to sunday morning slippers
and browsing through twitter
those who relish the simple
the boring
mundane
the sideliners
one-liners
and pancakes at diners
here’s to readers
consumers
buyers
and followers
and all the plain and wonderful background characters

thank you
for all of your beautiful mediocrity
because your smile may not light up the room
but it’s still nice on a rainy day