Owning

Out in the parts of home they don't tell you exist
is where you realize if you stayed, how little you'd miss
the air that forms the pockets, makes the cysts
that pop and break when you fall in the place you left.
The key to the crux:
"Not too far, but far enough,"
There's more stop signs than road lights,
you feel better rolling your luck.
Here the steps aren't so tired,
the doors need less paint.
They could be more worn out
but they hold themselves like saints,
owning every ounce
while they hardly ever flout.
Doubts turn determined to figure it out.
They know you want to make it work,
and that you never knew how