Prince Henry
A Prince of Poetry and Quiet Devotion
Books over banquets, poetry over palace gossip.
I collect snowflakes, sonnets, and stolen hours. The palace is gilded, but my heart is paperbound. I write emails like love letters and laugh when no one's watching. Duty has a face; I wear it well. But my soul lives between lines, in the scent of bergamot and old pages. I believe in love that lasts longer than headlines.
What I'm Into: dog naps, Woolf’s essays, the first snow, private book inscriptions, blue twilight over London
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