The In-between Times

The truth is
I’m hard work
Even at the best of times

This is not
the best of times
This is, in fact,
The worst of times

Or perhaps

One day

We will both look back
whisper softly
in each other’s
eager listening ears

In between
Deep wet kisses
Dirty groping
Endless moans
And dark, rough, sighs

“It was the best of times,
It was the worst of times,
It was the age of wisdom,
It was the age of foolishness,
It was the epoch of belief,
It was the epoch of incredulity,
It was the season of Light,
It was the season of Darkness,
It was the spring of hope,
It was the winter of despair…”

The truth is
It is all those things
Our current dance
Is vibrantly liminal,
Is waiting
To take that next
Awkward step
So full of promise

But yesterday
I was overcome
With Doubt
And pain
And confusion
And an endless
Audio tape of words
The cruel and incessant
You are not enough
Vicious Words

He has words
Words of love,
Of magic,
Of you’re mine
Of there is no escape

“we are something of our own creation
and it is beautiful to me
every time I see and feel it
and I’m not ready to let it go.
Because we are magic,
and I truly believe in magic.
You taught me to do that.”

“Relationships are forged
in the spaces between, baby “

We are
in the space between
as my life is spread
across two lands
separated by a
vast body of water
It is made up of
goodbye kisses
to and from my dog
half filled suitcases
a life and a love
being left behind
belongings strewn
and forgotten
grieved over

And fear
unexpressed anger

And so much hurt
And so much
left undone

But if I look East
There is hope
And laughter
And sunshine
And voices
That sound like mine
And love

And new beginnings

And the keeper of my heart.

But today

We are forging a life

In the in-between times.

With much gratitude to Charles Dickens

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