We tape the pieces back together,
Cover the cracks in the wall;
Pretend that we don’t remember,
The splintered glass on the floor;
We stop the bleeding and all the crying,
Sew up the holes in our broken hearts,
Paint it all over sunshine yellow,
To parade before the world
But we are still bruised and broken,
Never truly mended;
Ghosts of our former selves
With tattooed on smiles behind vacant eyes;
Bright cherry lips and lies
Consumed in the dance and alcohol;
Souls enveloped in a bitter darkness,
Numbed in a wordy silence
©2018 – V. A. Coote