Synesthesia

Fri, 08/02/2013 - 14:04 -- HannahZ

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My life tastes "almost."

 

It starts with a background layer,

a warm comfortable smell of baking challah

peppered with the occasional remark in Afrikaans

which I can almost understand, but not quite...

I am the first child in my family born in America.

 

Then are the really intense flavors--

"Poetry." "Writing." "Reading."

All similar, savory like a tangering--

the sharp tang somehow smooth,

flooding through the other words so that soon,

everything tastes faintly of them.

 

These are my food, happiness, and warmth,

these bursts of vreativity strung like crystal beads

on a strign that is my soul.

Knowlsedge is my life--Ravenclaw robes

and overfilled bookcases.

 

My life tastes "almost,"

that soft chewy word

which takes a second to digest.

 

My life tastes "almost,"

beacuse I've been waiting for this,

this chance to add words to the sentence of me.

 

My life tastes "almost,"

the word slipping through my other

adjectives and nouns,

its tentacles twining around each faction

like computer cords and skeins of yarn.

 

With blue lines of notebook paper tattooed on it,

my life tastes like the fresh wisp of air of early autumn mornings,

awakening the exciting worlds of storybooks

like a s ented candle left to burn.

 

My life tastes "almost"

because I,

the strange one, the nerdy one, the grammar-lover,

the one whose nose is permanently glued to the concept of books,

I

am ready

for

THIS.

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