“The Inbetweens”

In the hush between the thunderclaps,
Where silence hums but never sings,
There lies a place the world forgets —
The quiet ache of in-between things.

Not quite joy, not wholly pain,
A breath held long between the rain,
A hallway where no door is near,
Just echoes of both hope and fear.

The yes has left, the no’s not come,
And in the middle, we grow numb.
The heart does not know where to lean —
A limbo made of might-have-been.

The highs are loud, the lows are clear,
But what of those who disappear
Into the greys where colors fade,
Where choices sleep and time’s delayed?

The climb is praised, the fall is mourned,
But not the ledge where souls are worn.
We speak of peaks, we name the holes,
But never map the half-made souls.

This is where the questions bloom,
Soft rebellions in a quiet room.
Where smiles are stitched and tears don’t fall,
Just blank stares pressed against the wall.

The world demands a side, a stand,
But what of those who only understand
That truth lives not in black or white,
But flickers dim in shaded light?

We are the ones who walk the seam,
Not waking life, not quite a dream —
Still learning how to breathe, to be,
Inside this vast… uncertainty.

So let us not despise the space
Between the win and loss embrace.
For in that hush, that aching pause —
The soul remembers what it was.