A Bottle of Letter and Sounds

Bottle up your words. Let me share them. I have none left, and yet I have too many. Maybe I could borrow yours for a little while, just until I can find my own again. My lips form shapes and sounds, yet nothing comes clearly. Nothing comes to my mind.

All I can say is "I'm sorry" and "Give me food" and "Don't you dare do this again, I've had enough." 

Yet that's never enough. So I'll throw those into the garbage disposal, and I'll listen to those words being crunched down into the depths of black.

If I could, I'd take those words you lent me in a bottle, and I'd open it slowly, just until the "yes" and the "no" and the "maybe" would slip out of the small opening. Then I'd screw the lid back on, so nothing else could escape. I'd live with those three words on the tip of my tongue, I'd swallow them up and never say anything else. 

Those are the only words you really need, right?

Just tell me I'm right and I'll never bother you again.

Forever Yours,

Rachel

But is there anyone left?

When the spaces become to big, when the cracks won't stop breaking, when the wind whips out of nowhere and knocks down the big trees, I will still be here.

When the leaves fall, and the grass turns brown, the whole world seems to be a dull color between gray and yellow, I will still be here.

When the words you said were different than what you did, when the last ornament breaks and you were the cause, I will still be here.

When the sushi goes bad, and the prices on fruit go up, all you have left is a few pennies and your thoughts, I will still be here.

When the typewriter runs out of ink and you can't buy it any longer, your paper gets jammed, and you let it go in the wind, I will still be here.

When the ground shakes as if there's a giant stomping around and you feel like no one will ever notice, I will still be here.

When your words get stuck in your throat and you can't make your lips speak, you feel like no one cares, I will still be here.

When you finally realize who's left and who actually cares, I will still be here.

Forever Yours, 

Rachel

Nothing consumes me, yet it is Everything. It is Time.

Time takes away everything we love, and tries to give us something better. Sometimes it follows through, and we smile at Time, and thank her. We thank her for the wonderful memories she gave us moments to make. We sing praises to the moments and the seconds that consume us when that friend comes back, when he says what you've always wanted to hear. Time gave him enough to say it. To fill the moment with everything tangible and yet unreachable. You thank time because she gave you space to love and appreciate every minute of the moment you're granted to be with whomever you want. To make a memory.

And yet, sometimes Time is cruel to us, and takes away the perfect moment that we missed by milliseconds. It was hardly enough of Time to be called a moment, yet it was there, and Time, as cruel as she can be, snatches it away before we even saw it staring us in the face. So we lay in bed, when the house is silent and black, and we let a tear or two fall, let them disappear into Time, let her take them away from us and think about all the things we could have said, should have said, would have said, if Time had only let us. 

But she didn't. Time didn't care that we almost said, "Love me forever." or "I know you are thinking what I'm thinking, so kiss me already." or "Why didn't you stay? Why did you leave? Why did you let Time get the best of you?" But all those words go unsaid and Time feels victorious in herself.

And we are stuck in the depths of Memory & his pal, Wondering. Memory & Wondering keep us up at night, wasting even more Time, thinking and hoping and wishing and wanting. Eventually it evolves into writing, and listening to Adele wishing you had the Time to say all you want to say. 

And yet. There's never enough Time. Never enough.

Forever Yours,

Rachel

My life at the moment...

Because I don't know what to say to you, and it kills me.

Forever Yours,

Rachel