my voice is a window
that opens to my throat leading
behind my rubber band lungs
and into my humming, drumming,
beanbag heart

my voice is excitable
ringing out into my space
struggling to embrace the eardrums of my companions
and be heard for truth

my voice is a shapeshifter
that wants to make you laugh with it
not at it
and will go great lengths to
elicit that sound from the depths of you

my voice will step on your toes
and then apologize profusely
because my voice wants to be known
but also wants to know you back

my voice will hold your hand in the dark
cushion your heavy thoughts like a pillow
and sooth your worries like shea butter
on a cracked left palm

my voice is loud
like and 8 year old on a playground
explaining the rules of tag
to their rowdy best friends

my voice will make music with you
it will hesitate and it will overcompensate
but if you catch it on a note that isn't self aware
my voice will harmonize

my voice is mine
and it lives just outside of me
in the open
where I am no longer just electric thoughts
but where I am sounding

thoughts scattered in space
roll down my riverbed spine;
tuck my mind away

I hope you can sense my glance
as it wanders across the
miles of mountain and river
that cloud the space between us

I hope all that pining turns into
a soft nudge by the time it reaches you
and in your mind
you hold its hand
rubbing the back of it with your thumb
and then tuck it deep in your pocket

I hope you save it
for when your mind is restless
and it quiets your thoughts
guiding your wonderings
to meet mine


     I think of you when I get mud on my shoes
     I think of you when it drizzles rain in the winter