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. Oxford Street Joseph Mallord William Turner, High Street, Oxford, 1810 How far to go. The stumbling, drunken man will be no different at home, as he mumbles of a god even he is unsure can save him. The streets are brighter here and twice as busy yet somehow calmer; and I don’t have to remember to move my feet. How can this be? It is no paradise. Trading one city for another— It should be no different. But it is. The people can still be mean, no less selfish. Still, I remain willingly ignorant of even this; perhaps it is the lights. And I despise the home I miss most. Perhaps it is Solitude’s companion— A healthy presence when it is not abundant. But in these lights, the uncertainty is welcome, the chasm in my heart, a savory pain. It is the white breath from my lips that reminds me I am alive. — 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 Same Nature (Hampstead Heath) "We are not meant to be alone." 02.2025 Cigarettes and Stale Beer (Camden Market) "...it makes me want to stay—" 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. Soulmate John Everett Millais, The Black Brunswicker, 1860 Our souls’ flames burn so brightly for each other it would put the very Sun to shame. Igniting an embodiment of love. The purest and richest form, that kindles and inspires the rest of humanity. It’s not subjective; distinctly factual. Indisputable. Allowing my spirit to dare for yours is a privilege, for it brings to me more joy than I could imagine. You are forever mine. And I belong, forever, to you. In this life and the next, and the many before, I was made of a piece of you, and you of me. — A.M. Sención 2023 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Simply, I love You “…the hue of those spring-growth eyes,” 2023 Paraíso "Tu paraíso privado." 01.15.2022 Time "I wish not the life of another," 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. Discover Moon Prose Hi there! My name is Astrid, a 24-year-old artist, writer, and unapologetic dreamer. I was born in Miami, Florida, to Dominican parents and I was nurtured in a world of vibrant traditions, layered histories, and boundless artistic curiosity. From a young age, I’ve been captivated by the arts in all their forms and I was drawn to the transformative power of creativity, finding solace and wonder in film, music, painting, theater, fashion—each medium offering a unique lens through which to explore the infinite beauty of existence. My inspirations are as varied and profound as the human experience itself. In the grace and intricacy of Renaissance, Pre-Raphaelite, and Romantic art, where each canvas seems to pulse with life and longing. In the written word which enchants me just as much—whether in the sweeping grandeur of Wordsworth’s reflections on nature and the sublime, the soul-wrenching humanity of Dostoevsky’s narratives, or the haunting depths of Kafka’s surreal prose. Each piece I encounter adds another stitch to the fabric of my artistry. Music, however, has been my most steadfast companion . My passion here is equally diverse. While classical music—particularly from the Romantic period—holds a special place in my heart, music in general has been both my anchor and my liberation, a constant friend throughout life’s symphony. As a former concertmaster, I found a voice in the resonant strings of my violin, a voice that, even after putting my instrument down, continues to shape my creative journey with its beauty. My tastes are an eclectic dance of genres and traditions: the ardent crescendos of Romantic composers, the haunting melodies of Sephardic music, the ethereal strains of Nordic folk, the raw energy of heavy metal, the rhythmic pulse of tambores, and the nostalgic croon of doo-wop… that’s only scratching the surface. If you can name it, chances are it’s probably already in one of my Spotify playlists. For me, art—whether it’s a song, a painting, or a poem—is the ultimate unifier, a shared experience that transcends language, culture, and time. It is a phenomenon I find endlessly magical—a thread of humanity that binds us together, even in our most solitary hours. As a child, I was often told that my head was in the clouds. What once seemed a criticism has become my greatest gift. To dream, to wonder, and to wander through life with open eyes and an open heart—this, I believe, is the essence of truly living. The world is an endless source of fascination, brimming with cultures, traditions, histories, and untold stories. The more I learn, the more I find that life’s treasures are often hidden beyond the boundaries we are taught to accept. Though I once kept to myself, I have since learned the profound joy of human connection. There is immense fulfillment in lifting others up, in fostering community, and in sharing inspiration. This website is my humble endeavor to bring these passions together—a sanctuary for poetry, creativity, and friendship; to meet like-minded souls, and hopefully bring a little beauty and inspiration to others. Here, I hope you find a corner of the internet that feels like home; that it becomes a space that feels as warm and open to you as it does to me. A place where every visitor, every story, every dreamer is welcome. Perhaps my words are candid, perhaps they reveal the depth of my hopeless romanticism—but if you’ve ventured into my work, you already know that. And perhaps that is why you’re here—to share in the beauty of dreaming, together. What I Offer I specialize in creating personalized poems for any occasion. Whether you’re looking for something romantic, celebratory, reflective, or entirely unique, I’ll work with you to craft a piece that’s meaningful and tailored to your vision. Each poem is one-of-a-kind, with the style and tone customized to fit your request. Whether it’s a gift for a loved one, a tribute to a special moment, or simply an expression of your thoughts, my goal is to bring your ideas to life in words. 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. This collaborative process is one of my favorite parts of what I do—it’s a chance to bring someone else’s vision to life while adding my own touch of creativity. If you're interested in a commission, shoot me a message! Blinq

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. At The Mercy Of Love Laurence Koe, Idyll,1908-1911 Lying bare next to you makes my mind surge like the fire in my veins. Perhaps it’s the way you study my eyes, or how your gaze flicks over my lips, now chapped, dry, like the inside of my mouth; a symptom that comes as well with sweaty palms or a racing pulse and it’s entirely your fault. After all this time. I grow impatient, even sensitive. Mousy. Timid. Vehemently nervous. Ardently willing. Yet, it’s not so much an anxious, unnerved feeling like that of butterflies. In conttrast, I believe that to be far closer to a warning than the opposing. Rather than that of a love bug. It’s your entire being warning you of concealed trouble. Instead, I feel relief. Safety in your eyes. The only true fear that possesses me is that of having you no longer. Hanging to every bit of hope, even faith, I tread on convincing myself that your hands will want me more tomorrow than they do today. But Lying bare next to you does as much. Overt, vulnerable, plain and clear. Transmitting something I can’t yet fully distinguish; your eyes making all of me a puddle. Perhaps, it is simply love by its purest form. Anyhow, it works my head too quickly for me to understand; too quickly for me to keep up with. All I truly understand is that I want you— for as long as my heart beats; far beyond into His deathless death. — A.M. Sención 2023 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more 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 Exchange Between Heathen And Believer "As do I." 11.2024

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. A Poem In Disdain John William Waterhouse, Lamia,1905 Never had I met someone just as eclectic Someone who’s pull was too strong Such a deadly storm in which the only safe for me was its eye. Never someone so strikingly, hauntingly, devastatingly beautiful. My chaos. My midnight storm. Someone whose presence alone was as electrifying as it was protective. An absolute dream of a man. The anguish in me is almost as palpable as my love for him, which resides and unapologetically grips firmly upon my heart. The heart that only, and will ever only, beat for him. The prospect of such a cruel outcome shows a sardonic smile every now and then, constricting my throat and filling my mouth with the taste of regret and trepidation. Metallic and pungent. That too seems palpable. And it’s slimy. Vile and oh simply terrifying. Absolute and all-consuming fear. All it truly takes is a graze— the passing of a hand followed by a feeling that scorches up my palm and sears my very being with desire. Such a visceral reaction to something so so innocent. Yet, my muscles go taut at the mere thought. He’s a powerful source. I cannot bear it; never seeing those moss agates again. It’s too much, making me belligerent in my own world. He, the Devil. He who owns my soul. Yet, he refuses to recognize such. For that, I cannot forgive myself. And shall spend the rest of my days offering my sacrifice. Wounded, raw, and skinned. But proudly belonging to him. Be it in his knowledge or not. Forgive me. Have this be a sin and I shall remain a sinner All I ask, is you forgive me. For I will never ever deny my need. — A.M. Sención 11.2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Who She Is "She calls it passion / when it’s merely madness." 10.02.2024 Inescapable Daydream “Nevertheless, you are mine.” 2021 Peaches “Sweeter than the peach / that blooms at the halt of rejuvenating springs,” 2021

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. Wish It Wouldn't Bleed Carlton Alfred Smith, Recalling the Past, 1888 But I wish not to bleed anymore. And if it makes me stronger, then what? I don’t want the lesson in strength; the wisdom, or the need to be bigger. I am not big. Only dying, over something that has no place for grief. Not when it stripped me of everything I am, not the way it was. Should it hurt more to grieve if the lover was fair? This was not so. Why, then, are there tears of gold? Why, still, do I wake at midnight to a minor key, a haunting melody, that does little to lull me back to sleep. Time will heal. But it will always feel like shattered glass on his birthday— when he looked at me, and made me believe I knew love. That scar will always be tender. To grieve the hurt that will die; please, I only wish it wouldn’t bleed. — A.M. Sención 12.26.2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Soulmate “I was made of a piece of you, / and you of me.” 2023 Time "I wish not the life of another," 2024 Paraíso "Tu paraíso privado." 01.15.2022

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. Who She Is Manuel Ocaranza, La Flor Muerta, 1868 No, she’s too much, and you shouldn’t let her. She’s quite chatty— I’m not sure if I like that. And her heart Oh, that pitiful thing. Why does she love that way? Has she no mind for what she says? It’s pathetic, that kind of devotion, that form of submission, as if the stars shine brighter to her eyes. Don’t let her get too close, she’ll never let you leave. Or, alternatively, push you far enough away that you’ll forget her name and the way her smile grew when she spoke of it. Lover of life. Lover of love. She’s far too much. And it’s rather discomfiting. She calls it passion when it’s merely madness. — A.M. Sención 10.02.2023 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Cadence “…in the end, they still ask how I am.” 2024 Where The Sky Ends "In this way, / should the moon be unattainable, then you shall fall upon a star." 12.2024 At The Mercy Of Love “The only true fear that possesses me is / that of having you no longer.” 2023