philip coulson, phil.

you don't exist in other universes. 

you know this, 
you know that in other worlds barton and romanova aren't your agents 
and fury isn't an a-sshole friend who lies 

and you are nothing. 

but here, 
here you are competent above all else 
and you are brave enough to spear yourself for others 
to stand up because that was how you taught yourself 

and captain america would do it. 

you needed something good, 
something genuinely good, 
and rogers was patriotic and had a heart of gold 
amid the political scandals and hydra coworkers

s.h.i.e.l.d., the place you put all your faith in 
falling apart to ruin 

in the middle of all that, 
you clung to goodness. 

you're icy and monotone, 
you know you are 
and stark pushes every single one of your buttons 

but barton and romanova, 
well, you would stay alive for them. 

(you would do a lot for the things you believe in)

(lately, though, that hasn't been working out so great for you)

(death is unpleasant)

you wonder if there is anything good left anymore. 

The End

0 comments about this poem Feed