Paige was a story
she has black ink over her arms
drawn there by her little brother
who does not know what permanent marker is
who has no questions about life
Paige was not only a story
but a book
that she writes in every night
spills her heart
like a cup full of water
she has small thoughts
she thinks
never wonder  
what it's liked to be hugged
but always got the same question in return
where will I go
when I no longer have this story
no longer have this poet in my heart
who keeps me up at night
in this soft soft night
where she dreamt of you asleep
dying quietly
in your bed
crawl back to it
in the drunk afternoon
catch the floor
before it lifts itself from under you
when it does
buried in the soil
is a book you've never read
with a question you've never asked