Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Cigarettes and Stale Beer (Camden Market) Joseph Mallord William Turner, The Garreteer's Petition, 1809 in my most comforting presence. A Sunday roast, beer I hadn’t asked for, Plans I didn’t make. within vague familiarity, I feel at ease. It shouldn’t console me. Shouldn’t be a place of solace. Shouldn’t kindle nostalgia. It should be perturbing. Should be a thing of fear. Should incite reminiscence. But it makes me want to stay— makes me comfortable with the discomfort. — A.M. Sención 02.2025 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Poems of February 2025 "I have conversed with the spiritual sun. I saw him on Primrose Hill." -B The Boy on the Bus (31 Westbound) "He knows not / something to compare." 02.2025 Primrose Hill "Dismay— / and truly being alone." 02.2025

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Where The Sky Ends Luis Ricardo Phalero, Estrella Polar, 1885 Falling, like the Draconids. Quickly, then burning out before they really mature. Before they see the world for what it truly is. When to say, “I surrender”? Should you surrender? For your craft— Will I owe it to her? The young one with big eyes And virtually no idea of why anything has come to be? They’re too fast, those meteors, caring not for how the world turns. Which direction, how slowly. It’s all the same in Death’s pale eye, a cold October, when he comes to collect your pride, and all you’re left with is flesh and bone. For he takes the soul as well, of course, and there are no more dreams. There is no fall back. Simply hope—to catch yourself in the dragonfly’s way when he finds a landing. But Death has not taken my gift yet, no, not yet. And I am prideful. Beyond belief. Snuffing my desire, my flame, blinding me, thieving of my last breath is not what it takes for me to see the light. In this way, should the moon be unattainable, then you shall fall upon a star. — A.M. Sención 12.2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Nostalgia's Blade "And He’ll remember what it was like to love." 10.04.2024 Soulmate “I was made of a piece of you, / and you of me.” 2023 Simply, I Love You “…the hue of those spring-growth eyes,” 2023

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Same Nature (Hampstead Heath) The Great Day of His Wrath, John Martin, 1851-1853 In the midst of a burning desire for isolation. Long plains that see nothing but hilltops, an eerie silence; we are still incomplete. Our nature was not nurtured in empty rooms. Cared for in loneliness. There, we do not burgeon. From impatience, a trip which should have lasted longer, a coffee stained mug we can’t get rid of, births this incessant Need. Yet still, in busy hands we return— with an uncertain heart, and more questions than we began with. Listen now to my string. We are not meant to be alone. Not in this time, or the next. — A.M. Sención 02.2025 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Poems of February 2025 "I have conversed with the spiritual sun. I saw him on Primrose Hill." -B Braveheart (Montague Street) “...siempre demasiado lejos de mí.” 04.07.2025 The Boy on the Bus (31 Westbound) "He knows not / something to compare." 02.2025

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. I Can Serge Ivanoff, The violinist, 1893-1983 Doubt no further, For what is there to? His accomplishments are not mine own, and so, they shall never be. Does this, then, make me unworthy? A piece of paper with a title? Or lack thereof Is my mind incapable of such arts? That which, coming from him, would be no less striking than from my hand? Perhaps even less so. Misunderstand not, for I am not better; but to exist on the same plane should not feel like a crime, something to be exiled for, or something to make me feel fraudulent when all the difference lies in ink and paper. — A.M. Sención 2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Nostalgia's Blade "And He’ll remember what it was like to love." 10.04.2024 Soulmate “I was made of a piece of you, / and you of me.” 2023 How Life Loves "...meant to be soft / in a world that moves me with calloused hands." 2024

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Break of Dawn (London, February, 2025)

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Inescapable Daydream Frank Bernard Dicksee, La Belle Dame Sans Merci, 1902 In my world you are many things. You are the eternal flame that rages within me, fueling my desires and satiating my cravings. My brightest and coolest days. The knight who cares for nothing more than my hand; to take me far, far away. To look after me while I pick berries or the day's bouquet. That’s just what it is. An immeasurable yearning for your saving. The desire to be the princess you rescue, to do unthinkable things for. You’re the love who’d climb my window, sweat above your brow after skulking past the guards, my hair cascading down my back, rippled from the pleated styles I’m told are only acceptable. Where we’d share sweet strings of rebellion, and I’d offer you a pink aster from the arrangement that was picked that morning in return. We would sneak off into secret crevices of the royal garden only I know of, where your hands would trace the curve of my waist, trailing up all the layers of skirts and coats, my fingers tangled and tugging on brown curls that when struck by rays of the sun are the color of the finest polished ambers in the first glint of dawn. We’d do and say things the elders would deem absolutely sinful, immoral. Unforgivable, wicked. Soon thereafter, we’d stroll as if nothing happened. By the hand, while I pluck marigolds, dahlias, carnations. Occasionally hiding from my father’s guards that had been sent out in my search after skipping lecture. Helping me mount the stallion, you hold the reins in your hand, where every so often I reach down with my own and caress, asking you to ride behind me for support I didn’t really need. Giving in and settling down at my hips, I’d melt into you, carefully avoiding the blade hanging off to your side. Luckily, the creature would grow old to our antics and would know just where to go despite the lack of guidance. Lost in the depths of your eyes, and your lips hovering just above mine, he’d take us away. If the story goes that I am to wed another, you wouldn’t allow it, and we would run away before even considering it. And if it goes that you are the prince I am betrothed to and we have the luxury of also being in love, then all the better. Nevertheless, you are mine. And our story goes that no matter what, we always belong to each other. — A.M. Sención 2021 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more At The Mercy Of Love “The only true fear that possesses me is / that of having you no longer.” 2023 I Can “…when all the difference lies in ink and paper.” 2024 The Devil's angel "Men who feel love / never lack a good heart, / so I wished my soul bound to his. " 2024

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. The Burden Jean-Léon Gérôme, La Vérité sortant du puits armée de son martinet pour châtier l'humanité, 1896 To crave I’m meant to— and secretly, he wants that too. To be desired, to be needed. Though once it is in his hands, he panics. is overwhelmed, when I am the one balancing society and a home. My longing is an inconvenience, however. And all it is for is to be accepted, to feel safe to be candid, unfiltered, to fall apart and not be chary to succumb to the task. a deepened presence that makes it okay to sleep a presence that leads in trust rather than power. rather than control Because there is no softness in power, and they both yearn for tenderness— one to give and the other to receive; even this is without an owner When he steadied, she found peace, and in her peace, he found his own. Held. Seen. Cherished. Unashamed. Protected. Heard. When there were no more butterflies and he— unassumingly, humbly, unpretentiously— asked her to surrender. Not for his sake, but her own. She did. And here she simply was. He cared not for performance. Loudness— but he did for holding a space where her femininity was preserved and untouched. Inviolable. Chaste. He cares so deeply for building something with the only person it makes sense to do so with, that validation from the outside holds no significance, his essence is unyielding in the face of prejudice, and there is no hunger to reign. His ego remains intact in the absence of either. Satiated by her purity and righteousness— which he never mistakes for meekness. Here he is strong enough for the both of them. He does not flinch. is not threatened by her confidence, or her awareness of her worth. Rather than trying to challenge it, he does it all to meet the standard. Rooted by the goodness he knows lies within her, and radiates loud enough to brighten a room. Stern in resolve and bearing, all the while soft in his gaze toward her. built of discipline and fairness, a steadfast guardian and guide. Still. Clear. Himself. She knows what her body is asking of her, and under the darkness of the skies, as does he— even when words lacked. But I was told I was unlovable. I am unlovable, and in this feminine rage there is a war behind my eyes. I am unlovable, and trust is fictitious, at least when pride is involved to feed his lust for a throne. My father always prided himself on raising a Valkyrie over an angel anyway. — A.M. Sención 05.31.2025 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more The Devil's angel "Men who feel love / never lack a good heart, / so I wished my soul bound to his. " 2024 Who She Is "She calls it passion / when it’s merely madness." 10.02.2024 How Life Loves "...meant to be soft / in a world that moves me with calloused hands." 2024

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Simply, I Love You John Simmons, Hermia and Lysander. A Midsummer Night's Dream, 1870 I love you infinitely. My first thought of the day, my last thought at night, and nearly every thought in between. What I wouldn’t give to be lost in the hue of those spring-growth eyes, the shade of the blades of grass in the vast pastures we only dream of skipping through, for the rest of my life. I would not want anyone else, Beloved. — A.M. Sención 2023 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Peaches “Sweeter than the peach / that blooms at the halt of rejuvenating springs,” 2021 Where The Sky Ends "In this way, / should the moon be unattainable, then you shall fall upon a star." 12.2024 Cadence “…in the end, they still ask how I am.” 2024

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Get in Touch with Moon Prose Whether you have a question, want to commission a poem, or just want to say hello, I'd love to hear from you. You can reach me via email, Instagram, or mail. First name* Last name Email* Phone **If you'd like to provide your phone number, please select your country code first, then enter your phone number without spaces or dashes. Message* Submit Instagram: @moonprosedreams **Pricing is flexible and varies based on factors such as length, complexity, and your time frame. Once you submit your request, we’ll discuss all the details via email to ensure the final piece meets (and hopefully exceeds) your expectations. Please allow 3–5 business days for a response, and check your spam folder regularly. If you have not heard from me after 3–5 business days, kindly resubmit your request. Email: moonprosedreams@gmail.com P.O. Box: 668996, Miami, Fl, 33166

Welcome to Moon Prose This is where I share my poetry— each piece is a reflection of my love for the human experience and the boundless depths of creativity. At Moon Prose, I offer writing commissions, crafting personalized poems for any occasion; each commissioned piece is tailored to your vision, designed to capture and express your unique story. Moon Prose is a space for dreamers, romantics, and those who find inspiration the littlest things. Exchange Between Heathen and Believer Charles West Cope, The Thorn, 1866 I love you. As do I. — A.M. Sención 11.2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Nostalgia's Blade "And He’ll remember what it was like to love." 10.04.2024 How Life Loves "...meant to be soft / in a world that moves me with calloused hands." 2024 Simply, I Love You “…the hue of those spring-growth eyes,” 2023