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! I’m Astrid. I’m a 25 year old writer and artist, born in Miami to Dominican parents. I grew up surrounded by a mix of cultures, traditions, music, stories, and very strong personalities, all of which probably had something to do with the way I came to see the world. I’ve always been drawn to the arts. Writing is at the center of what I do, but I love anything that gives people a way to make something out of being alive. Painting, film, theater, fashion, music, literature. I’m fascinated by the way people have spent centuries trying to capture things that are otherwise difficult to explain: love, grief, beauty, longing, faith, loneliness, memory, desire. Visually, I tend to gravitate toward Renaissance, Romantic, and Pre-Raphaelite art. I love work that feels ethereal and symbolic, particularly the kind you can stand in front of for a long time and continue finding something new in. My taste in literature is much the same. I love Wordsworth for his reverence toward nature, Dostoevsky for the messiness of being human, Kafka for making the strange feel disturbingly familiar, and countless others I could probably talk about for far too long. Music has been the most constant presence in my life. I was a violinist and former concertmaster, and although I no longer play the way I once did, that part of my life never really left me. Classical music, especially music from the Romantic period, remains particularly close to my heart, but my listening habits stretch far and wide. Sephardic music, Nordic folk, tambores, opera, doo-wop, metal, old love songs, orchestral works, and whatever else I happen to fall in love with that week. My Spotify library makes very little sense from the outside, but it makes perfect sense to me. When I was younger, I was constantly told that I had my head in the clouds. They weren’t entirely wrong. I’ve always drifted off in daydreams, although I’ve grown to appreciate that quality rather than apologize for it. Curiosity is probably one of the biggest forces in my life. I want to know how other people live, what they believe, what they create, what they remember, what they celebrate, and what they have carried with them through generations. The more I learn about people, history, art, and culture, the more convinced I become that we are both far stranger and far more alike than we tend to think. For a long time, I was happiest keeping much of myself to myself. As I’ve grown older, I’ve come to appreciate connection much more. I love the idea of people finding one another through something they have made, read, heard, or loved. That is a large part of why this website exists. This is where I keep my writing, my poetry, my interests, and the things that make me stop and think. Some of it is romantic. Some of it is personal. Some of it may be a little strange. That is probably unavoidable. More than anything, I hope this can be a warm little corner of the internet for people who still like to wonder about things. If you’re one of them, you’re very welcome here. 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. Peaches Francesco Hayez, Il bacio, 1859 Sweeter than the peach that blooms at the halt of rejuvenating springs and into the advent of golden summers. None can compare to what I have; not the melodies the rufous nightingale may carry or the scintillating bursts of dawn as the sun wakes. To consider it subjective that you are for me, and I for you, is illogical; for this is plainly and distinctly fact, on display for anyone to see for themselves. Fear threatens this with each new day, and naturally the Insecurity who is a fit companion to it; fears of familiarizing within ourselves too much, or contrarily, knowing too little. Letting apprehension make us sick for days that see no end. Doubting abilities that satisfy our souls, each other, our minds. But must we let that be stronger than this? This of which I speak so proudly of. Like the welcoming tree under which we sit, offering shade in July’s unforgiving heat; where no one can find us and the grass is greener everywhere while the open skies sing. Or perhaps it is like those peaches. Our love: the sweetest peach, the mellifluous nightingale, the vast and most blissful plains scattered in wild indigos, lupines, and Queen Anne’s lace. Yes, this Love. Merciless, Chaotic, and so irresistibly Desirous. — 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 Exchange Between Heathen And Believer "As do I." 11.2024 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. Gallery

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. Cognizance William Adolphe Bouguereau, Nature's fan - Girl With Child, 1881 What is loss of innocence? Realizing your grandfather isn’t as wise as you thought he was? Or the sky not as blue as it used to be? Was it finding a reason to check Halloween treats? The slug’s curious squirming; Or the wonder, now ameliorated, upon Man’s reenactment. Maybe the flickering light at the end of the bar, and the way it made you feel when he left. Forget the light; and when you’ve turned big and bad to old eyes which once held a warmth upon you that shamed the very sun? And it’s wrong if you decide to hang on to it, But you’re damned if you don’t; then it’s: “Who do you think you are?” So, behind closed doors, my mother’s doll still sits on linen. — A.M. Sención 2024 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 Cadence “…in the end, they still ask how I am.” 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. How Life Loves Roberto Ferri, Apollo E Dafne, 2020 I am meant to be soft in a world that moves me with calloused hands. Brusque and barbaric Setting me back down with the same scorn Beating me black and blue In such a pretty dress — A.M. Sención 2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more Exchange Between Heathen And Believer "As do I." 11.2024 A Poem In Disdain “My chaos. /My midnight storm.” 11.2024 Cognizance "So, behind closed doors, my mother’s doll still sits on linen." 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. 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. 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. Cadence Charles Haigh Wood, Gossip Is it the cadence? The tone, perhaps. Can you read the tone in pixelated words? Whatever it is, I’ve got to figure this out. How to make people believe inauthenticity escapes me? How to make them believe you actually do care? Because I do. But then, why do I feel like they see me as something artificial? Am I not who I think I am? Useless, useless question, Because, in the end, they still ask how I am. — A.M. Sención 2024 This writing is my original work. Do not reproduce without permission. Explore more A Poem In Disdain “My chaos. /My midnight storm.” 11.2024 How Life Loves "...meant to be soft / in a world that moves me with calloused hands." 2024 Cognizance "So, behind closed doors, my mother’s doll still sits on linen." 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. 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

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