Relationship

Like ships that pass in the night?
Not quite.
In fact, they were never that.

They were more like boats
that met on the quiet.
In hotels.
At regular intervals.

Their rented room
became a port in a storm
where no thought for their future,
or the consequences,
was permitted to enter.

They were their own safe harbour.

Often they drifted,
then dropped anchor
and made love once more,
having travelled a million miles away
from any guilt or rancour.

On those voyages
it was just her and him.
In it together.
Sink or swim.