When i was 8, i found a teddy bear. It was white, soft, and so delicate. Her name was Rose and and she had a blood red bow tightly fastened around her neck. Her eyes were black. But they were full with wonder. She was flimsy, but solid. I found her in my house. But I'm not sure who she belonged to before me, but I'm sure she lived a life far beyond mine. I grew an attachment to her. For the longest time I imagined she was real and laughed at my jokes. But she didn't laugh. Humor was her one and only flaw. She didn't know humor. The slight smile on her sewed lips had never changed.
YOU ARE READING
Imprisoned Thoughts
PuisiThe thoughts that will never leave my lips. And with little hope, will never leave yours.
