Thanks For Sending Me Your Writing Project!! Will Give You My Feedback Soon!

i love your edits sm

<3

L. V., i found this poem whilst we talked about van gogh with wine in our bloated bellies

L. V., i found this poem at the beginning of a rainbow

hi, how are you? :)

i just finished reading your writing project. part 1 and 2 are beautifully written. i loved the poem you wrote me. it was perfect! these were my favorites: hibiscus, chai, rooibos, hyacinth, and alyssum.

thank you for sharing your writings, and i hope to read more of your work!

My heart feels lighter. Thank you <3

L. V., i found this poem sleeping alone in the dark

L. V., writing in the dark (pt. 6: because i don't know what to do with all this light)

L. V., He’s not the right person if you have to lie to him like this, your friends tell you. But I'm not lying. But he's not the right person. But I want him to be the right person. He has to be the right person. I’m going to make him the right person. I’m tired. He’s not the right person. But why does he smile like that.

[i found this poem in my drafts, where it should have remained (pt. 5)]

your page is like going to a museum; each post like a painting. Specifically the ones you weave your poems with classical paintings. i can go over the details for a long while. it feels like taking a magnifying glass to a miniature work of art to fully appreciate the little touches; and when i step back, i see the whole painting -- the bigger picture. thank you for the experience.

This is far too lovely. Thank you, dear stranger. You made my heart feel a little less heavy today.

I can’t do poetry, my words won’t write, if you could help me, that would be quite alright :)

As you can see, my poetry is shit.

"Poetry at its best can do you a lot of harm." —Sylvia Plath

"Poetry, I feel, is a tyrannical discipline. You’ve got to go so far so fast in such a small space; you’ve got to burn away all the peripherals." —Sylvia Plath

Are you certain you still want to write poetry, dear stranger?

L. V., i found this poem inside an empty promise