Hello friends! For the longest time, writing commissions were something I’ve wanted to do and yet never got around to. I thought this would be a great way to ease into it! So to those searching for the perfect Valentine’s Day gift this season, look no further! Words by you, written by me.
From now until 2/5, I will be accepting orders for poems starting at $20! Included in this price is a poem ranging between 10 to 15 lines, communication with me about the angle of your poem, and, of course, any edits requested once I send the first draft. Delivery will be in the form of a PDF file. For an additional $15, I will frame and ship a physical copy of your poem to you or the gift recipient.
I will accept payments up front via PayPal or Venmo. Upon payment, contact me via email at [email protected] OR via Instagram DM @theinbetween_blog with your email. Then, you will receive a little questionnaire via email to fill out about the person the poem is being written for in order to give me optimal material to write with. I pride myself on being very detail-oriented in my writing, so the more you tell me about your person and relationship, the better I can write about it!
The turn around of the first poem draft will be between 2-5 days from when the questionnaire is completed. I will accept cancellations with a full refund up until the first draft is sent via email. From there, I will not give refunds, but I will help to ensure your poem is everything you want it to be. I guarantee transparent communication with you while working on your project too.
For any additional questions, feel free to comment on this post, shoot me an email, or send me a message on Instagram.
I will post some writing samples down below, but feel free to also peruse the (scarce) writing already up on my blog!
As always, thank you for reading, and I hope to work with you soon!
WRITING SAMPLES:
Imagine the boy you love:
imagine his gentle hands,
the way he smiles when he’s flustered,
or how he ducks his head secretly to laugh at a joke when you’re in a crowd.
Imagine the way his hands run through his hair while he stretches,
how you can see him looking at you from across the room,
or how he calls you pretty hours after the moment has passed.
We are always in the moment.
It never passes.
Imagine the boy you love:
imagine him discovering your attention to the cruelest details,
the way you remember important dates,
the way you anticipate his messages,
or how his name is burned into the back of your brain.
Imagine the butterflies fluttering in your stomach,
crawling up your throat,
and how they cloud your mind and erase whatever you had to say.
Now, imagine him reading this.
When your hands brushed against my wrist,
sparks exploded through my whole entire body -
Now, wait, that’s a bit cliche to admit.
The pads of your fingers delicately jumped around
the map of skin wrapping around my bones
as you searched for a pulse, proving I was alive.
Gently, you dug into my skin, then held your grip -
forever, maybe.
In the moment, it was for mere seconds, until you
found my heartbeat, and then
released me back into the wild.
After the fact, it was all I thought about.
Your grip is still on my wrist, and it’s
clawing its way into my brain.
It’s plunging into my heart for a time indefinitely known.
When I was little,
I would look out the windows and marvel at the leaves changing colors:
reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, purples -
because I didn’t know what any of it meant.
There was just beauty in the colors,
but the leaves were in pain,
tumbling down to their demise,
to be run off the road
by the first guy who looks at you nice.
Now I am grown,
looking out the windows,
and when I see the leaves changing colors
dread pools into the depths of my stomach,
and the setting sun creeps in early.
See, there’s beauty in death,
but there’s also sadness and grief
that you don’t learn until your twelve or thirteen.
Now my favorite season is spring,
when the trees are in bloom
and the harsh winter has passed.
Roses grow up from decrepit gardens.
The warm breeze waltzes me into summer,
into nine o’clock at night when the sun dips down:
reds, oranges, yellows, pinks, purple -
I marvel at that instead.
There’s beauty in all of the colors.
There’s warmth in death, too,
and everything you lost will come back to you.