Sense

Photo by Oscar Keys on Unsplash

Five. So limited. So finite. Fuck it.

Take away sight. No view of light. But light radiates with warmth. Heat waves. Do you feel that? Yes. New sense.

Take away hearing. Boom blast blah. Sounds resound no more. But leaves a soft vibration, shakes my core. I feel that. Yes. New sense.

Take away touch. Soft rough smooth touch. Tips rubbed off fingertips. But I still feel. Emotionally. Yes. New sense.

Take away smell. Sweet rose. Pungent. Conjures a striking nostalgic memory. Memories mentally flood. Strong. Yes. New sense.

Take away taste. Salty skin, sweet kisses. Spicy. No love for food. But love for him. Yes. New sense.

But love makes no sense and yet it’s not senseless.

Everything heightens, hearts of hearts, highs of highs, and oh. So low so lowest of lows. That to feel the frugality of the thin outer skin protecting the fragility of the wretched heart, it’s easy to feel good, but it feels so good to feel deep and down too. Because I can feel everything. I can sense everything. Breakups break open the limited five senses into being.


And then time happens. I lose all sense of it. Until one day, I’m numb.