I keep a box at the farthest side of my shelf to the right of my door. Sometimes I go to souvenir shops and search for the most bizarre trinkets and throw them inside the box from ten feet away. Sometimes I would write down poems and rip them apart and scatter the papers inside the box just to fill even the smallest void. Sometimes I would break jars or cups and look for the most nocuous shape to keep inside the box. Sometimes I would find our pictures, cut our faces, and burn them to ashes to add to my collection. But my favorite piece of all these was a note I got from you. It looks perfect with all the misshapen, unwanted, and discarded parts I have yet to get rid of. At least it's not the only wreck I have anymore.
YOU ARE READING
Trinkets
PoetryIf you want to read without the commitment, this is the perfect book for you. You can open it and read a few excerpts once in a while, or you can read it in one go. The entries here have various themes which may confuse readers as it confused the wr...
