Sixth Sense


You heard my voice at its best, as it sang along to duets which quickly turned to solos that were performed only for you. The purest form of happiness washed over you as you listened to my melody fill your head with “what ifs”.
But you also heard my voice when I didn’t have one left to fight with. When there was wasn’t anything left to say. When all that managed to escape were the cracks and dried out notes to a song you used to love.

You felt my body become one with yours as my head lay on your shoulder and your hand rested on the small of my back, dancing in the light that was slowly becoming morning.
But you also felt my body as it shook with uncertainty and pain, tightening your grasp as if it were the last time you would ever hold on to the body that took part in refrigerator-lit dances with you.

You could smell the faint traces of the shampoo we had gotten in aisle four together. Its sweet scent of lilacs and honey, now masked by the beads of sweat we were creating that were quickly forming on my forehead and dripping down on to you.
But you could also smell my fear mixed with raspberry rum as you handed me back the things that had taken up a temporary residence with you.

You saw my purple dress to your left and my curls draped over my face to your right as you opened your eyes, squinting as the sun poured in.
But you also saw the black lines stretching like branches down my face and you were struck speechless as you realized they held the same intensity that the light had held when it came streaming into our room that morning.

You tasted mint, rain, and certainty when you kissed me for the first time. Your new favorite flavor was brought to life and you couldn’t help yourself from going back for seconds and thirds and fourths.
But you also tasted longing and smothered desire when I didn’t allow your hands to push mine beyond their comfort zone. You had never tasted that before and it would burn your tastebuds for weeks to come.

Five senses are what we are given to experience this life with and I’m still in awe that you were able to show me a sixth.
It did not need recognition to exist, rather it just took flight on its own and resided in your subconscious.
You knew that when my curls were sitting in a pile on top of my head, sticking out every which way, I had slept through my alarm again. You always made it a point to tell me on those nights to set three for the next morning. “2 to snooze and 1 to use.”

You knew that sarcasm was my go to in uncomfortable situations and when I couldn’t find anything to say, you would step in and help me through the awkwardness by saying the words that would have come naturally to me.

You knew that it took every ounce of courage I had when I told you how I felt, so you made a statement by telling me what I meant to you, every day.

You knew that when I drank vodka, you shouldn’t wear white. Because even when I was happy, I would cry, and you didn’t want your white shirts stained with brown and black smudges again.
But, when I drank wine, you expected a text that explained the meaning of life, while you smiled because I was in yours.

You knew that I had turned over a new leaf when I started wanting a future with you. And yet you still made the choice to walk out of my life, confirming my greatest fear.

Your sixth sense, for me, was magical. But even magic has its flaws so I should have known that it may have been too good to be true when your senses began to fade away.
Allowing myself to understand you knew that this would affect my every sense but going through with your actions anyways, left me in a place where all of my senses began to fade away too.

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