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Sierra Blasko Jan 2019
Red is Mondays, swirling in a poisoned cloud
Like the aether
Ready to grab my hand
And throw me into the middle of the week
Before I know
What it is exactly that I have touched
And before I am ready as well

Red is apples
Macintosh melancholy
And candle wax galas
Red is an explosion
Of dark magic
Red and black, the perfect duo
Twisting and weaving in their dance
All low notes
And timpani rumbles
And middle C
And like the dueling harmonies
Red is too loud
Too bright
And at the same time
Always present
Always safe

Red is blood
In the same way my emotions are of pearl
Luminescent and shifting

If you see them
Something’s wrong
the first time you played for me, I remember the innocence within your spirit.

you emitted the purest blue I had ever seen, a color that does not exist; unseen by human beings.

your hands cast diamonds, as swirls of opaque words and thoughts unfurled around you, painting the musical sonnet of your soul.
the shining sonnet of your soul. I love you.
storm siren Oct 2016
My days are filled with color
And bright lights.
I see them everywhere,
And people try to attribute it
To some kind of mental illness
Or problem.

And while my head
Is basically
Alphabet soup,
These colors I see
Have nothing to do with
The reason I take
Multicolored pills
Every day
At various times.

Some days are red,
And others are green.
Some are pink
And today is grey.
My best days are blue,
And white rarely occurs.
Orange is a bad day
And yellow days are the worst.

Black days fill me with dread,
And on brown days, I'd rather disappear.

Gauge me on my colored days,
To help figure out how I feel.

I met you on a blue day.
And fell for you on the same,
And how astonishing it is
How these colors used to cause me pain,
But you seem to light up this darkness,
So I may see them
I'm a synesthete with grapheme, and it gets a little messy sometimes.
Jo Hummel Jan 2015
Your voice, cinnamon kisses
Eyes- the sound of a wolf howling
Your every word sends a shiver up my spine
I haven't felt you yet but I know that when you say "I love you" I can feel every dip and curve of your body against mine and I've got you memorized
I don't know your taste but it already reminds me of the color salmon

You're my every sense,
my literal world
Finally able to place a label on all of these weird feelings I've had my entire life. Synesthesia! I guess I've got multiple kinds of it. Who knew? Maybe it makes me a better poet than I would be otherwise.
Michael Aug 2014
The house I have built within myself for you
is not an empty nest
It's cupped palms that hold water just fine
a cool, stone cage for a hummingbird
the door is open
I am waiting for the right moment to fly

— The End —