That your senses are all linked
That is why when you flip through an album
Of a love now lost,
You can hear from the pictures,
A soft, murmuring whisper
In your ears.
You can feel exactly-
The touch of his skin:
Soft, warm- And now cold
You can smell his frangrance:
And now distant.
All senses are resurrected
In a path your synapses formed so long ago,
You almost forgot it;
Alive and remembered now.
And against your tongue;
You can taste again
The soft, sweet flavour
Of words once said.
Now, the flavour lost
Under the bitter taste of your last fight;
The sour taste of accusations;
The bittersweet ‘Goodbye, Adieu’
A raven’s ‘nevermore.’
All paths that formed between you
Are now lost or barred
Or destroyed beyond recognition.
But there are paths still-
Formed by the very cells of your body:
That come alive with the trigger of a single sound,
An image, a voice, a smell-
And all senses tread those paths again