Starting again

We have rituals of starting again, breaking away from our shadows.
Where we spend our night times pushing our glowing limbs
beneath bed sheets and worrying that the person
next to us, hates our bodies and their lips only chase
the shine from our skin.

And I don’t want your hands to carve out my smile like a silhouette,
or to wake the demon asleep in my chest.
But it’s lonely and it’s true what they say, silence can be deafening,
and all we remember about love is a series of broken promises-
until our ups and downs piece together an electrocardiogram of happiness.

Where we smile because what else can we do, but face it
and facing up to the past is too hard.
So we face up to fact that people change and sleeping pills are angles
in-caged in glass coffins, or maybe they are just an offering
where my soul if being lifted to the heavens and returned again.