Synesthesia

Colors sing;
Orchestra, Choir, Conductor, and I their awestruck audience.
Sounds sparkle;
Aural explosions the very stars would envy
Numbers dance;
Ballerinas pirouette on a stage of unblemished diamond.
Textures are storytellers;
Compositions of unparalleled beauty recited for ever and only for me.
Scents are frighteningly unstable;
One moment tingling in anticipation, the next burning with hatred.
Tastes are strange;
Color, Sound, Number, Texture, and Scent meshed and with a side of tinkling laugh.

Green is a crisp autumn day, ripe and ready for the harvest.
Three has a certain mystery about him, tall dark and handsome.
As comical as it may sound, Two is a fish; a fish with pleasantly squishy eyes….
Forever may mean bumps one day, and river stones the next- 
It depends on what Blue has to say.
If Gray and 67 met, there would be trouble, but Violet could be the sister of 12.

This is the world I live in; a world that I can't share with many others.
It's called a "disorder" but in reality- a reality with singing Colors, storytelling Textures, and Pleasantly Squishy Fish, it is a gift.
Without this beautifully imagined imagery, my reality would be emptier than a book without words.
My reality would be… real.
And where's the beauty in that?