in betweens

i left footprints at every stop,
curled thoughts around them,
draped memories over them,
every intersection, street lamp,

all those in-between places
more honest than most.

and it’s always the inbetweens that told the truth,
where you wrote your stories,
where you always belonged.

palimpsest of hearts in the middle,
scribbled ink through crooked roads;
the wires will remember the laughter,
smiles written on the skyline,
if anyone else does not.

there’s a truth,
and a belonging, a comfort,
in the time between times,
in the place between places.