Muscle Memory

It's not deja vu.

It's the muscle memory
of the heart
from when you
and I tore
the dream
apart
like it was only ours
to ruin.

It's not round two
for us to try again
and make it work
when it never did
because we're older
but none the wiser
or better
for the mistakes
we made.

It's the glass
we shattered
and tried to repair
without all the parts
to make it whole again -
it may look the same
but the water will always
find it's way through.

It's not a record
we ever should play again -
it's worn with the scratches
and gashes of our words
and pain.
It can't sound the same
no matter how much our ears
want to hear the notes
we remember.

It's just noise
now;
no melody
and we need
to let it rest.
It's just history
we didn't learn from
and muscle memory
that won't let us be.