A poem about mirror-touch synesthesia. A clone to your touch. Innocently, As if enslaved to you, I share what you feel. Behind this glass, I am invisible to you, Yet somehow, You tempt me with every touch. You limp, I limp. You scream, I am your echo, As you melt into the hand of your
in Autism Poetry by Andréas RB Deolinda, BA, BSc