Synesthesia Of Truth #Wattys2016

Synesthesia of Truth

She sounds like rose gold; tough in all its glory but a little soft around the edges. She giggles and smiles, cheeky and sweet as if thy were the child of Aphrodite herself. Only she is not Aphrodite, simply a deity worth more than currency and petty one night stands.

"Eurydice." There are many interpretations of this name, can have more than one meaning or value to anyone. But to me, Eurydice tastes like karydopsomo.

"You call my name but seem a thousand miles away. What is on your mind, Orpheus?"

My skin crawls and flares, not quite sure how to explain. If her gentle caress nurses my doubts, my worries and fears, and I do the same.... Why does my mind trouble with expressing how I feel? There should be no turmoil nor debate, yet when she holds my hand an endless vast of sea appears; I feel lost.

Marriage. I want to marry Eurydice. I want to hold and cherish her, to take her to lands far from here. I want all of these things, but can't explain why. We've only a few summer nights that ground our relationship, not nearly enough time to be this obsessed about someone. Would she think of me as arrogant to assume a long term relationship? Would she fret and escape from my grasp without notice, leaving me in a trail of dust none of part? The risks seem too hard too hard to bare but it could be worth asking....

"I see a possible future that holds our lives together." I pause our tread through the garden, getting a burnt taste at the back of my throat; I wave my hand and summon a cloud to block the sun.

"You speak in riddles, Orpheus. Our future is now. Is it not? Aren't our bodies side by side, flesh and bone, blood coursing through our veins at this very moment?" she says. Her thickly wrung curls sweep across her shoulder as she turns to face me, eye to eye.

I clear my throat, sidestep her spell. "I am not speaking in riddles, but you however, mock me."

"Mock.... Orpheus, whatever it is you shall say, speak it now." Her tone is no less patient than ever. Aren't you always patient with me, Eurydice?

With great hesitation, I call out my pleas, doubts, and worries to Eurydice; she is my focal point and I pray to the Gods that she will comprehend. Clearing my throat,  I inquire, "What is life if Death is a man? Does such an obvious fact allow me to make presumptions that Life itself, identifies as female?"

A grip so firm. Water so painful.

My heart clenches and throbs, my tongue tastes like pomegranate. Beside me, Eurydice waits patiently. "Could...could it be possible for us to have a bond? Are we...compatible?" My eyes widen in fear.

Did I just doubt my love for Eurydice?

"You are not Death, Orpheus, nor will you ever be." A strong exhale, then, "Sing." she demands. I startle out of my self-depreciation.

"Pardon?"

"Sing." Soft hands clutch at my forearms, she lowers us toward the ground. My tunic crinkles at the persistent friction of soil; I scoul in the face of Gaea. "Anything you would like." Eurydice soothes.

A grip so firm. Water so painful.

Like a viper, I flick my tongue across my lips, attempting to catch the taste of skin contacting skin; her feeling and hers only. My beloved. My Eurydice. Another taste, and I proceed to project my voice.

Before it all begins there is light

This light triggers a reaction

This reaction, our reaction, my reaction...

Is the Synesthesia of Truth   

Truth starts in the head, lets gravity become the best