I am not quiet.

I have wrapped my voice carefully
in forgotten notebooks and scraps of paper
from busy places.

I leave these for the people
willing to listen.

My voice is everywhere.

It’s in everything I touch.

The roaring words in my head
slip down through my fingers
and leave a residue on surfaces
marred with careless touches.

but I can’t walk away
without  leaving pieces
of myself
behind
in the hopes someone will take comfort in my silent voice.

Do not tell me I’m quiet.

I hide my voice from those
who think I have nothing to say and give it freely to those who listen.