i find it funny
that I would have destroyed galaxies for you
you're leaving, but you are only leaving
a broken mess of shattered glass and bipolar behind.
you called me your color, when you spoke to me the other day.
you said that I could make beauty out of nothing.
i am unsure if I should believe you.
i cannot promise the world
because on Mother's Day I just lock myself away
its as if everyone is trying to be Captain America
but I'm okay with Phil Coulson.
the blandest people are always the most dangerous
but I'd like to tell you
that a day might have come when you stopped appearing in sepia
when you bled red blood
and drank water like a normal person
but I'm dead inside.
it's too late.
yes, a day may have come
where you re-inserted yourself
as a main character, but for now
you remain nothing but a faded smudge
in the background