Metaphor storm

those flavours
harsh flat stinging brutal
with smears of fury

they were my wedding tastes
but I stirred in enough sugar
to sweeten the bitterest feeling

champagne was poured
instead I drank water
warm from the hotel toilet tap

those colours
tall bare muddied empty
with careless edges

they were outside my window
all flat, like a paper screen
blurred, dimmed and softened by rain

we bought magnolia silk finish
I hid it in the under-stairs cupboard
then dared to try turquoise

those sounds
sour salt flamboyant familiar
all mixed up and burned

they were my journey to you
my secret tomorrow-taste
measured in four-four time

but with scorched tongues and
colourblind eyes and little floppy aural
cilia barely sensing what was out there

how could we ever touch?