I can't focus on us anymore
it feels like a dream we once had
rather than a lifetime we worked on

You once made me feel precious,
invaluable,
loved.

Now I'm the fall back and safety net
you need to desire
before you hit the bottom of your bottle

I am miserable trying to hold the foundation alone.
I was looking for a life partner, not a freeloading liar.
You promised me change.

I was the fool who believed you and saw with my own eyes
you didn't touch a drop.
Now I'm left with the empty bottle in my hands,
searching for an escape from my isolation.

you used to say
that a glass of wine always makes things go down easier.

so when you left,
you gave me the bottle.

20 years and a Bottle,
not much has changed
between the mother
rubbing whiskey on her
infant's gums
and the girl that stands tall now
drinking it from a cup.

i trudged through frozen rivers
passed through red oceans
i bottled up my feelings and tossed them into the wrathful sea
fishing ships skimming through the vibrant bay
caught wind of my hopeless message floating meters away from where they cast their nets
tiny thoughts floating through levels of salty sea foam, devoured by the vicious waves
breaking, scattering and tossing seaweed into the briny air
“land **!” they bellowed, tying a thin rope to the side of the vessel
wonder if that truly makes a difference or that the boats just don’t really desire to depart
with unwashed fingers and hands, they ripped the bottle from the ocean’s greedy grasp
observing it with curiosity, they tapped on the glass of the object
the bottle cap popped open, revealing the suspicious contents
pouring it out onto the dock, they whispered when they saw the small yellowish letter lying flat; my letter
the captain read it to himself quietly and deemed it unnecessary to repeat to the rest of the crewmen
“perhaps, it is time to rest. the moon is almost at her peak.”
the captain uttered a couple words, for he was astonished such a hopeless thing could float ironically in the most teeming ecosystem to ever exist
my feelings were daggers, and not knowing where they originated from worried the captain

but everyone rises and falls
everyone lives and dies
everyone hopes and becomes hopeless
water carries secrets,
and in that, it holds stories

  -happy ever afters don’t exist in the ocean

To whom ever finds this bottle
My message is to you
I want to say now
I'm sorry If It sounds like I'm venting
But really I just want to tell someone
What's on my mind
And a little about me
But not know who I am telling
For some reason
That is comforting

I myself am not the brightest bulb
And I may make you want to
Hit your head against a wall
Sometimes many in a day
Because I spoke faster than my mind
Was thinking
My mind is weird
For if you ask something of me
I know I can do it
But yet my mind has a panic mode
And in a way forgets how to do it
Or the item you wanted me to grab
I question it for some reason
Even though I shouldn't have

So yea I am not all that smart
Sometimes I feel really ******
And just worse than dirt
And it's hard because I know
I am
Smarter
And better than that

I do have my moments though
Where I don't always think, rather act first
But it manages to put a smile on your
Face and make you giggle
That usually helps to make me feel better
But thinking back I feel dumb
But remember that I made you smile
And so I smile

I try my best to do better
For I love learning new things
And doing anything
That sounds different
Or fun
And an adrenaline rush
I will say yes to
Because that is such an amazing thrill

I may not always make sense
And sometimes I struggle
Putting together my thoughts into sentences
I get there eventually
But I get there

So if you're okay knowing
this little Bit about me
I hope this message
in this bottle
In your hands
Finds me
But if you do not wish
To want to know me
Then toss me back
Message in bottle
for someone new to find

Our initials chiselled,
With a crown cork bottle cap,
Into the trunk of our favourite tree,
Will the world wonder in time to come,
Whatever happened to you and me?

Empty: as the word meaning a
glass bottle in Africa.

I'd have my fill;
to the brim of life's expectations.
Expected of the plenty from the very
little I have given.

Life is that empty,
as many are trying at their fill.
On the straight and narrow, of where
it sits.

Hoping it won't spill.

How tall do you measure your glass
view of life?
Fragile are the moments; tapping on
the taps of glass.

Hoping it won't crack.

This bottle is what I make of it's fill;
Am I overburdened, or overflowing,
with the cares of the world, or whether
the Holy Spirit?

A question, only with the answer from
within; and as I ask from Him.