In mere moments,
it seems, I will be
wrapped under stale
hospital sheets;
throat scratching from
a breathing tube,
a hollow body where
organs have been
sawed away.

I still love the womb
that only cultivates
funerals, would keep
it forever inside
if it had allowed.

I think of the cyclical
nature of hope—
how those who cradle
around pretend to
not notice the quiet
decay of one’s body,
promising me
there’s still semblance
of a woman residing
here.

-Kathryn Paige // The Hysterectomy

you reside in
benevolent prose,
tightly woven
to heaving ribs
not designed to
bear this weight
of losing you.

I am still learning
to not break
at the sound
of your name;
I am still learning
to persist without
your presence.

-Kathryn Paige

He watches as
I ache, listens to
the sound of bones
splintering at his
feet, and falls
into stillness
once more.

There is no
presence near
enough to hold me,
and I am clinging
to empty pages,
begging to
be heard.

k.p

Most days,
I still feel
the ache of
bruised bones
the way vets
still feel the sting
of lost limbs,
and I wonder
how long it takes
for something
no longer present
to heal.

And last night,
I heard gunshots
that sounded just
like your name
as I was reminded
some things exist
for no other reason
than to cause pain.

I am nothing more
than this small frame
and protruding ribs,
knots of hair lying
on the bathroom floor,
remembering what it
once felt like
to be whole.  

-k.p

It was the way
we fell silent
the second your
hand brushed mine—
We are both so
hesitant, and I am
still learning
how to love.

-k.p//let's pretend it's nothing

And I loved you because
you saw me—
through all that I was
and all that I was to be.

And for the first time ever,
I am to you as I
am to everyone else,
and how painful it is
to be a ghost to
the one you love.

-k.p//ghost