it is quiet almost complacent on the late bus ride home,
gentle lethargy, a long day blinking to a close;
rolling past all those anonymous stories scattered under street lamps;
the music in ears over the rumbling engines, all reverb and misplaced longing.
im still scared, still carrying the weight of the day to day,
but for now, drifting in the liminal in betweens
i leave them whispered worries tangled up in the silhouettes of darkened trees,
i lean against cold window, i let my breath fog up glass,
spelling out fading thoughts invisible to everyone but me.
stop after stop, minute after minute,
the city falls away beneath,
i leave myself nestled in the cracks of the pavement
– all temporary, dark highways home.
i’ve always found myself in the in betweens.