senses.

1.
On the best of days,
You resemble two fistfuls
Of fluttering fingers,
Twisting and collapsing,
In a light and sound show of emotions;
Infinite thumb prints in infinite colours -
Staining an unclaimed wall,
Featuring an infinite others.


2.
On the best of days,
You stink of glorious desire -
Desire for an intangible entity;
Desire for nothing and everything;
An adoration for infinite possibilities;
Congruently inconsistent,
And consistently intoxicating.


3.
On the best of days,
You taste a lot like
Fire sustaining life -
A decadence unwittingly unlocked;
Unconvincingly mild,
And emphatically restrained;
With a taste for café noir,
And love for sweet tea.


4.
On the best of days,
You sound a lot
Like a symphony made out of
Carelessly pushed out staccatos;
A legato made out of,
Effortlessly perfect vibratos;
An opus in the making,
With no concern
For the artist's wherewithal.


5.
On the best of days,
Your familiar touch
Feels like a foreign force;
An intrepid foot seeking a novel shoe,
Eager feet stumbling and straightening,
On heels standing two inches too tall;
An undiscovered track unravelling,
Content to be leading nowhere at all.
©opia__