Eschew the tape,
Scissors and glue,
The Stapler, paste
And mucilage too.
She's shredded,
Ripped, torn apart.
No magic in your box
To fix her heart?
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
I detest cliches but less is more rings true here. Beautiful write and to me it sits in line on some kind of opposite trail with my piece shoebox love. Not pressing for a read just stating what's in my mind