I'm looking for my voice. It might be under the couch but I feel too stiff to bend down and look under there. It might be in a glass, but I am too worn down from tipping it. It might be on my fork but all I can sense is anticipation. It might be in a new pair of headphones but then I am mute. It might be in a young beauty but then I would have lost all of mine.

So I keep looking for my voice. These fingers on this keyboard. This mind looking stringing together words to feel connected to something. So I keep looking for my voice. The voice that is more than my mind. The voice that comes from my heart and peeks out from time to time.

I keep looking for my voice but it cannot be found. My voice will find me when it is ready. When I am ready. This whole idea of my voice separate from myself; well that is the problem isn't it.

And when I do find my voice, will it fall on deaf ears?