Halcyon

here we go again

the door of the motel knocked,
i opened it,
and ruin walked in
wearing your face.

oh dear lord,
here we go again,
back to the same wreckage
we swore we wouldn’t.

you asked me why i was here,
as though you weren’t here either.
how did we ever think
we could make the roses bloom
through concrete rock?

handprints in the dust,
footprints on my soul
look at us, clinging to each other,
both affection and punishment
all over again.

we promised we wouldn’t,
but see, we are,
swearing on ashes
and calling it progress.
but history always repeats,
does it not?

how can we go to our homes now
that we’ve done it again?
they know.
they always know.
they dance to the same heartbreak,
only in a slightly different key.
they sleep beside us
under the same sky,
dreaming of different ruins.

gluing the glass is not healing.
forgiveness is just forgetting
with better manners.
how can we bandage something
and call it new?
they deserve someone better.
and yet —
here we go again.