Blank Paper Thoughts

Reaching out to the clouds, my wings,
Made of bottle caps and discarded strings.
Toy elephants, childhood dreams, and dust.
A coat of it.
It makes you choke, and fills your bloodstream in place of your usual oxygen.
And your amber, topaz eyes back at me, blankly,
For a moment I feel your breath against my pale, exposed neck.
How is it that I feel so wrong?
So awkward, so blank, so tryingly empty.
A carcas of beetles, a piece of stitched fiberglass;
Without the fiber, and with too much glass.
It's cutting into my moonlit, broken feet.
It's getting caught in my hair, burying into my lungs,
And forming a tree with crimson branches across my palms.

You fill all of my blank paper thoughts.