ON STOLEN TIME

On Stolen Time

We both know this was over years ago.
Our eyes shouldn’t meet, fire laughter,
our hands shouldn’t seek the other’s,
trusting as children,
tenderized by time.

Your mother said at our wedding
she’d give it a year. You didn’t listen.

I got fed up with your family thinking
I was second rate. When he came along,
said I was special – I fell.
When I told you, you listened
then you said you forgave me –
you’d done something first,
you hadn't been present
for me to betray.

That’s when the stolen time started
because we should have turned
away from each other, not fallen
on our hands and knees,
rooting out broken pieces of heart.

Deep-mouthed love on stolen time
but I knew
if I left you I’d never
belong again because I’d lose
how you saw me –
better than my true self.

So when life gets scratchy,
and marriage is like being stuck
in a net with a biting fox,
I remind myself it was over
years ago. This isn’t real,
we’re living a dream.