Why else would we be here?

Julia is a name of navy

My mother's name is Julia

I wonder how I came

From a blue name

I am no Blue Berry.

It has become clear

An arctic crystal, through my third eye

That a soul

Is very different from a name.

The soul in the hallway

Asking me to cut her hair

With fabric scissors

Is not blue in the slightest.

Don't fret.

Rippling green

Like the pools of her eyes

Is all I see.

Juniper, to be exact.

Maybe this is why I see

Juniper

Coursing through my

Diaphanous veins

Parading

Behind my pecan irises.

But then again

I am a synesthete.

Do these things

Still hold true?

Where can I find the source

From which her sparkling green

Sparkles so brightly?

At first I want

And yearn

And wish

For something that may only be a mere birthmark on my skin

Not a trait passed from mother to kin.

But the human mind is ever changing

And has depths of curiosity

That one could only dream of

Traversing.

Which is why

Amidst waiting

I notice the blanket of sun

Gently kissing my calves.

I taste blood oranges

While examining tangerine bursts

Behind my eyes.

And whisper

Hey, Satsuma! May I link hands with you?

Why else would we be here?

They eagerly coo.

Spraying mists

Run circles round my cheeks

Lime green

Is their shade.

I follow their trail

As my face is already half painted

With their fresh war paint.

I ask politely

May I paint my face with your lime green hue?

Why else would we be here?

They gallantly coo.

And in my wildest of dreams

The ones people only dream of dreaming

I am strumming a ukulele

Within a melody of which

A deep lilac flows freely.

It sparkles.

This time I wonder

Stay with me for now, Purple Waves I once knew?

We have been and always will be

They wonderfully coo.

Why else would we be here

If we were not meant to be?

Synesthesia (of a person, synesthete): A neurological condition in which one unrelated sense is activated when another sense is activated. Feeling color, or tasting sound are forms of synesthesia.