25/100 Lost voices

Words and language all my own,
secreted and overlooked,
lost and profound.

My touch, my touching,
touched and touchedness,
verbs unspoken, enacted
infinite, future and past.

My smells, in motion and static,
translate across all my senses
to where my heart and soul
can know them and make them mine.

Only my fingers speak words
you understand, you can make
sense of. Fingers speak words
you read and interpret.
Not part of my understanding.

I respond to what is around me;
all of it. You respond to a mere
subset of the world, and you’ve
forgotten to speak with lost voices.