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harking back to an earlier poem of mine: poor wendy -- all the heroines get left behind. but she was a darling after all. yes, i very much have tears in my eyes. and it shall be hard to see, and sometimes i won't want to, but i will go on looking anyway. this collection shall be under the tutelage of sylvia plath's poems, and the bell jar and her lovely tortured head, in which i see something quite like mine. i hope it is enough in the end. do tell me if you've seen them. with love eleanor

poetry to learn to love again. "and i would hide my face in you and you would hide your face in me, and nobody would ever see us any more." -- kafka. (2019).

you are my sun #11 052418 #7 070618 #1 071018 © 123017, enamoramos

can i stop wanting you, now? © 2019 immortalitatis- cover by the beautiful @hurtcopain

bathing in spring showers. basking in cool shadows. a poem everyday in April. Copyright 2019 @timespieces

you are the sun and i am proxima centauri: a low-mass star, too faint to be seen, yet closest to you

pyrrhic victories © 2019 fighues

this is a collection of poetry focused on trauma, nature, and the intertwining of humanity. a lot of it is self focused

careworn and smiling with a crooked grin, adoration slept in the wrinkles beside his eyes as he observed the mosaic beauty. she held his callused palm in hers and whispered to the moon; "tonight, we're monsters." romanticism isn't always beautiful.