I’m in the in-between, that space
in the middle of life and sleep,
when the mind is a dog let off the leash
and reality blurs its lines
but I’m finally speaking truth.
It takes all day, my every day,
until those final seconds
when the words come back,
each night something else
I should’ve said, some piece
I never gave to you.
But they’re better kept there in the dark,
in your endless Waterloo Sunset-
in the morning they dissolve and
I could never trust my tongue.