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It is often in the most mundane moments that I am caught by sense of perspective altering awareness.  Awareness of the ache in my toes from straining to see through the window of what might one day be.  Awareness of the truly humbling way that life can take everything away, leave you sweating against the rock floor, only to show you the beauty in having enough strength to pull yourself back into the light. Awareness of the gratitude that pulses in my veins for the people I have landed amongst.  It is here, in these moments, with pressure reminiscent of hope, disbelief, and wary elation expanding against my rib cage, declarations of affection catching in my throat, that the floors drop.  Endless free fall is the only capacity within which I understand what it means to adore another.  With feet firmly on the ground, I'm guaranteed to lose my way.
Not sure if this is finished or not. Just something that happened tonight as I was writing.
 Jul 2013 Paige Wright
Nicole
I.
There will be a day, you say,
where the world stops and all that ever was
and all there ever will be would cease.

                                                                     Trust.

There will be a time, he says,
when I will no longer love like how
you built the moon for me, balancing
upon a staircase of wooden boxes.

                                                                    Trust.

You don’t care. You let him weave
with string, then with your soul,
your heart the ball of yarn at the end.

                                                                   Trust in him.

You are a lover. You are a fool.

II.
Light. Soft light and harsh light and lantern lights
and fairy lights and neon lights and flashlights.

Light, like that which comes on in his eyes
when you tell him you want Honey Stars, and
you two spend the night picking at those overhead.
He tells you that when you drop stars into the
Pacific, they become sweet, like honey.

All you wanted was cereal, but you are a fool
one that picks at stars that have long since died,
one that can’t tell a corpse from a sparkle.

You don’t get any stars in the end, except for the
ones in his eyes.

A fool.

III.
This is where you grew poppies,
expecting to harvest the seeds and
crush,
thinking that maybe,
just maybe,
the dust will help you sleep, like the
sand of the Golden man.
You teeter on the edge that separates
wanting and needing,
You walk on a slowly fraying tightrope.

Tight,
        like your heart.
Rope,
          like how you rope
souls into believing you,
how you rope in friends
and demand their faith.

This is where you rearranged
his little soldier boys, where the
ceramic crashed against the wood
and refused to break.

Not like you, then.

This is where you kissed him,
over
       and
             over, because
air is useless without oxygen
and oxygen is useless to a pair of collapsed lungs.

IV.
You hate him. You hate his strength,
how he bangs the table and it snaps in two.

You hate his laughter, scratching against the walls
in tune with your sobbing.

You hate how you have to scan his eyes before you sit,
have to look before you make the metaphorical leap.

You hate how you let him force open your legs,
hate his pride at being in control, and his guilt
for the purple and blue spots on your skin,
like garish children’s make-up,
a clown at the party of life.

You hate how he holds onto your sides till
you hear the crack, and how you tell the doctors
you fell, because you did.

You are still falling, every time he looks at you,
Honey Stars in his eyes.

You don’t hate him. You love him,
that’s why you come back to be destroyed.

You hate yourself.
That’s also why you come back, to be destroyed.

You can’t repair hurt like that
but you try anyway, because the best part of building
is when you knock down.

V.
It is painful, but pain is a symptom of life.
You let him hurt you, let him crush your
bones and self-esteem, because no one
taught you how to love and if it means giving,

then you must be doing it right.

VI.
Wake, from the best sleep you’ve had,
wake from a nightmare, to a nightmare.
He is gazing out of the window, with
suspenders to hold up his pants
and his courage.
Your canines sink into your thumb, as
he turns to you and he says, “Hera,
I love you, but–”

The memory ends there.

Hera was the wife of Zeus,
goddess of women and marriage.
Your parents made a mistake,
more than once.

VII.
You are alone.
Quiet was never your thing, silence the most
deafening noise in the world.

This is your hand, a hand that once
rested against his neck, a hand that
felt his blood pulsing in his veins.

This is your hand and it is green
not from gardening but with envy.

These are your shoulders, shoulders that once
carried backpacks stuffed with Honey Stars
and sour things like love.

These are your shoulders, and even Atlas
cannot carry the weight on them.

This is your heart, and it is red.
This is your soul, and it is aluminium,
his words like sandpaper, polishing
until your soul tears and can be collected,
filtered and cross-examined under a microscope.
It will be reactive with the acid of his absence,
but only for a while.

This is your neck, and the rope feels rough
compared to your memories of his hands.
Hi, I published this poem a few months back on my other writing blog, ofparadiseandwords.wordpress.com

Some of my other works can be found there. Thanks for reading!
You don't remember when we were friends?
Seems like it's been forever since then
You told me lies and trapped me with sin
So, don't confuse your future with mine

Everytime I see you I want to go...
Keep traveling till I find my home
And if you stopped me to say “hello”
All I'd want to hear is goodbye

And you can go die.

I saw a reflection the other day
It looked just like you were standing across the way
My heart shook like dying leaf
Such a lesson you decided to teach!

Now that I've taken off on my own
I've realized that I'm never alone
You tried to strip me of all my pride
But there's a flame in me that won't die

Though I must say,
It was a nice try.

As I make my way through this life
I realize it's a sacrifice
It's about what we want to do
Even bullets can't suppress the truth

So, I walk in shadows and embrace the light
It has little to do with whats wrong or right
I keep my heart on my sleeve and my dreams in the night
Because the end of my body isn't the end of my fight

And you will be with me always,
Because we are love
Savor the good and devour the bad
These tyrants get off when they keep us as...

Never consent.
 Mar 2012 Paige Wright
BAM
blackout.
 Mar 2012 Paige Wright
BAM
Darling, where has the daylight gone
I see you stumbling down those streets
and see the corners where you meet
Tell me, what is really wrong

Twinkle, twinkle like a star
as you slowly fade away in the sky
Inhale deep to get you high
Tell me, where you really are

Falling, till the meteor Crashes
Down on those knees tonight
what is wrong and what is Right
Tell me, where’d you get those gashes

Blacken, as midnight turns about
Left by yourself with no one to Help
No one to even hear you yelp
Screaming, Screaming, let me out
The girl with no face stares blankly in the mirror
not knowing what she'll do or where she'll go
she stands seemingly frozen with fear
all she knows is from this she can grow

emotions she keeps buried inside
her story she tries so hard to hide
hopeless and alone she stands
staring in the mirror to far away lands

life has a purpose this she believes
but to define it leaves her confounded
so to her few truths she cleaves
hoping one day she can be well-grounded
Each new kiss
like the first
excites
and comforts me...

your soft touch
still makes me
ache
longing your embrace...

your sweet love
now as then
still
leaves me weak...

This morning
you awoke
in me
what had too long...


Been sleeping.
 Mar 2012 Paige Wright
Jae Elle
cunning and quiet
the room is shaking
& I've got no bread left
to take for the
breaking
I feel in my spine

I could have sworn you were mine

darling
my darkness is shed
upon your
bed
& the silence you
give
is the silence
I dread


I marveled upon you
one cold winter
night



& you left me with
nothing



but music
& plight
Love Came to Us
  

  Love came to us in time gone by
When one at twilight shyly played
And one in fear was standing nigh -- -
For Love at first is all afraid.

We were grave lovers. Love is past
That had his sweet hours many a one;
Welcome to us now at the last
The ways that we shall go upon.
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