prompt #5: home

how the mirror becomes a window

a door into the sky     wings unnecessary

the way I dreamed of flying

soaring miles above the earth below

somewhere that felt like home

a place I never knew until too late

until I held moving boxes

and my hands knew

that this place I had rejected

was bone marrow

was memory

the way you still walk these rooms

how I listen for your breathing

reach for you beside me

and the mirror never shows your face

or mine

only the empty sky

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