My heart comes in a brown paper bag, tied with brown twine, with a stamp of Elizabeth,
My soul is the ink I've used to write a letter to whomever who finds it next,
All it says is to "Handle with care"
With love,
My love.
YOU ARE READING
The Half-Burnt Boy
PoetryFor all the prompts I find fascinating on this thing called the "World Wide Web," and random words I find interesting enough to add to this collection; I'll be crafting poems out of thin air like any magician would do 🪄 Copyright © 2021 by Aloka Wi...
