because home has always been the spaces between
your genius & the obstinacy coursing through my veins;
this slumber is fitful & miraculous & unnecessary for
what is the point of laying my head down this sorrow
to sleep if the skies are all regular blue i miss you & this space
feels foreign again. i have been in this body for almost a
century’s worth of earth’s revolutions around the sun & yet,
it feels like something to run away from, for what is the point
of the strength in my muscles & the iron in my bones if they
weren’t enough to save the man i love?
sorrow doesn’t need a reason to seep into my skin
but tonight, when the flowers curl around the moon my bones
find empty spaces to clank against because home has always been
the space between your beautiful mind & the gratitude coursing through
my veins hollow like logs of wood: do the trees grow tired of witnessing
humans turn homes turn wisps of smoke where do i lay this sadness
down, how do i build a new home?
from s. r. to t. s.
(mcu: Avengers: Endgame
when tony stark dies)
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