I am paperwhite,
a delicate bird,
thrashing and ensnared.
Paperwhite,
and bones of feathers;
light and airy.
I fly,
fly away in the ceaseless night sky.
Snowflakes stick to my face,
my eyelids,
my garments;
That are knit together too big on my frame, draping over
My winged shoulders and shielding me,
like a wall
Protecting a delicate feather from windy skies.
Running, fleeing.
Gasping, dying.
Blood starts flowing,
and rushes down my forehead,
Thin, the kind of flow that won’t stop.
It flows over my eyes,
down my chiseled face
And pools in my collarbones creating a lake.
I look into the distance;
staring back at me are ashen eyes.
I am homesick for somewhere I’ve never been.
Longing, longing,
flying, running.
Running home,
running far.
Reaching with open arms,
Reaching closer.
Reaching out,
breaking the cage keeping me.
A mucky ocean of dirt and sediment,
Clears into an open water,
a clear oasis,
a path.
Folded like paper, flying like a bird.