Words!
Words that exhale from my mouth like the burn of rum and ring laughing over the table.
Thoughts that drip like rain off my fingers, that roll down my nose to splash on pages no eyes will see but mine.
The perfect shade of vermilion as the sun lays its sleepy head on the horizon, yawning a purple-and-gold good morning through the frosty blanks in the loading bay door— though i have been up for hours already.
A too-sharp rosy bubble of my voice when it is at its most girlish and obnoxious, or the low, tired purple of a murmuration to myself.
The strident orange of singing, the red blare of a shout. Words that scrape across my vocal cords and come out sounding like some other instrument from worlds away– dragons and clerics and fae and bards.
A voice that curls around my tongue and never truly sounds like ‘me’ but always hopelessly does, no matter how I pitch it
Words!
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