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