The watermelon is sticky between my fingers

Infinite hues spread across the mountain

Where i lay my head on your chest

We press our bodies together

Tight.

All because it is the season to do so  

My ego is ripe, succulent, and bursting

It is fed by your intoxicating voice

Drunk by the end of your song,

i beg you to keep singing  

As our weak feet

Stumble along the trail, we acknowledge

We are weak kneed 

And in love

With the January rain

On each other's face  

We leave behind a series of 

Tastes, colors and sounds

Soon

Sympathetic synesthesia controls my life  

But that doesn't bother me none

I  am chemically bound to you

And you to me.