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paige
Artist | Student | Literature
United States
i grew up just outside of new york city but am currently go to school in boston.
i write poetry and the occasional short story.
don't take me seriously.



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it's been a while. i hope you're all doing well.

i've been on this goddamned website for nearly EIGHT YEARS!!!

honestly CAN YOU BELIEVE THAT BULLSHIT?

i can't, but i thought i might as well stop dicking around and update myself every once in a while.

to be truthful, i was in a little bit of a slump this year. the depression comes and goes. no one is entirely sure if i got my father's bipolar disorder, but what's important is i'm learning to cope. in a way i'm a little thankful because i got back into poetry again. i love the hard journalism i've been involved with, but i have to admit i really miss creative writing sometimes. i was thinking maybe i should actually try and send some of my poetry to publications. i don't think i'm that great BUT maybe i'll get a little lucky, who knows. lmao

i keep thinking i have to do something more with my life considering i only have three semesters of college left. it's so strange living away from my parents for so long, buying my own groceries, paying my own bills, going to school and working a job. the weirdest thing about being an adult is even though you do adult things, you still can't quite admit you're not a kid anymore.

anyway, i figure if i want to do a little creative writing, i should stop fucking whining and do it lmao

again, i'm hoping you're doing well and continue to.

my links
writing blog caredful.tumblr.com
personal blog jonswno.tumblr.com

much love
paige x

pssss can you believe i'm turning 20 in like three weeks lmao get rekt
I am a crumbled newspaper
forgotten between the couch you keep
pushed between your kitchen window
and the TV. you glance at me sometimes,
between the news, the light blinking again,
again, again, like eyes. and your eyes
are tired like mine, half-hidden by lashes
colored by the steam coming from the stove,
the light from the window, dusted by dusk,

and it’s same way a child looks at a neighbor
when they’re walking home from school,
a child too young to hold itself, your neck
lulling to the side, back and forth, cradled
only by your shoulders. and it’s times like this
when I wonder

do you admire me? am I an afterthought
you sleep on, a thought that sometimes
finds its way into your bed? am I an
example, an organ you can remove when
you decide you don’t need me to rest
between your bones anymore?

I don’t know. all I know is
I am tired

and I want to sleep with you
and your bed, even if
that bed is an afterthought.
love letter
caredful.tumblr.com
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it is quiet.

how could you–she said, a voice
old with bitterness–how could you
allow yourself silence when there
were even Gods guilty of what
most men do, that claim they are
heavy on a high that only leaves
when they have their way with you?

she said,
women, they say, but it sounds
like any other word when it falls
from their lips. and she tells me
it is the only effect of manhood,
a disease that kills more women
than any other does,

that it has sometimes even made her sick,
that it doesn’t calm even when her body hits
her white wedding bed, when she widows
as it is christened by her dead husband.

when my body hits the ground again
I wonder what Zeus’s mother thought
of all the women he raped, that maybe
all men speak ancient greek when they
release their breath into your neck, that
maybe all men have empires sewn into
them, the destruction within the space
between their eyebrows a silent history
you have to trust like the recurring silence
that always seems to find you, along with
a knowing smile that sees maybe, like Zeus

his victims, too

live a post-raped life that begins
and ends
with a desperate quiet.
my grandmother, on __
full title: my grandmother, on γυναίκες

caredful.tumblr.com
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I had a doll that sat on my dresser when
I was a child, eyes black beads and a red dress
that hugged her shoulders, hair hanging like
broken legs over the side of the wood

like mine rested on beds. some days I wake
with the feeling of a doll forgotten on a dresser,
dust collecting in the corners of its eyes
like sleep does long after I wake,

my hair broken into a crown over my pillow
like my sleep had brushed it into the feeling
of neglect. when I am fifteen years old
and I wake to this doll, forgotten but

still sitting on my dresser,
I toss it into the closet by its hair
before the sun even has a chance to rise
and touch its hair like you used to touch mine.

this time, I was able to find sleep, but this time
I couldn’t sleep with the dream that one day
the sun will rise in a corner of the earth
where even you can’t touch me.

like I am a doll you can toss into a closet,
like I am a doll you can forget about on a dresser,
this doll that you gave me as a child
continues to be mine.

when I sleep, I dream I am a place without sun,
that even then, I am still yours.

when I wake, I wake with my hair like I usually do,
broken, but still warm.
sometime in 1950,
marilyn monroe bares her backbones.

if I could describe her
I would describe how she bends over,
her spine curling like a twig does
before it breaks, her hips
cupped by another man’s waist.

at fourteen years old
I watch how the diamonds
swim in her curves,

and I tell my mother quietly
so my father does not hear
that her hair does not even move
in the wind.

my mother does not answer, only shrugs,
her shoulders angular under her shirt

and even quieter
I think my father keeps little cardboard cutouts
of marilyn, sometime in 1950 still.

I see tons of your poetry describing her
like she believed she was
the most beautiful woman in the world,
that she died with diamonds
still drowning in her curves,

but all I can think is
sometime somewhere,
marilyn eternally bares her backbones.

marilyn monroe died at thirty-six,
and your poetry is terrible.
I am real.

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:iconpyroshadow18:
PyroShadow18 Featured By Owner Jan 4, 2015
Hello, and good morning.
I just wanted to say that I just read your writing, that gay kid, and it's a really beautiful writing. And  I enjoyed reading it. :) Thanks for sharing it.
And have a good day. :)

~Josh~
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:iconladylincoln:
LadyLincoln Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
Happy birthday :heart:
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(1 Reply)
:iconthegamer499:
Thegamer499 Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2014  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy birthday!
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(1 Reply)
:icontangled-tales:
Tangled-Tales Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2014  Hobbyist Writer
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! ;D
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(1 Reply)
:iconmisseridanampora:
MissEridanAmpora Featured By Owner Aug 23, 2014
happy birthday doll ;)

Congratulations on not dying this year!

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(1 Reply)
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