Sometimes

What is there to say?

Sometimes the words are no use, empty and just noises in the air that have no meaning. Sometimes the words are too heavy, reluctant to fall out into the air and hang there. Sometimes there are just no words; even though the silence seems wrong with too many corners and dark shadowed hiding-places for the misunderstandings to lurk and wait.

Sometimes the words lack the eloquence of a gesture; the delicacy of a hand reaching out across the universes of difference that lie between us.

Sometimes the words are no use, sometimes the stories we tell, thinking those stories are what the other wants to hear, are just words on the wind, light and meaningless, floating away over the hills and lost.

Sometimes there are times when it is only the silence that we have left to hold on to, everything else having fallen useless from our hands. Sometimes even those hands are useless too; incapable of reaching, touching, when the space between is too great.

Sometimes though, it is only the words that can whisper those things we long to say, saying those words we long to hear. Sometimes it is only words that can tell of love and loss and distance and the importance of being close. Sometimes too, it is only words that can ever say sorry.