Ops😅 it's all right dear. I love all the covers but that one is absolutely unique. That pure vintage aesthetic touch. I am really fond of that. 🌼💖

OMG, such beautiful book covers. "Encyclopedia of a broken heart", I love that one the most. 💖🌼

I love autumn 🍂 both personally and also in my creative mode. I don't know why that time of year had magic on me. I feel nostalgic, all my fossil memories resurface. There is a sweet sadness in the aura. I absolutely love that( also a little depressive for me) still😅😅.

Here are two, that you may consider 1) The Death's Route: City lights are dimming; winds are frost. My legs are shivering; as I am lost. Lost in thoughts tangle with perilous seclusion. All my nightmares are standing in a row; to shout out the end declaration. Mantilla of darkness dwell across; diffuse with the stink of rotten fate; slowly comes around. Fanning my anxiety; as my inner mind knock-on, hell's door and has heard a satanic sound. Screams of mirage faiths and myths have echoed, All wicked evil spirits shroud me to applaud. Applaud with sinister joy, that rage a storm, I have to turn; and read the page of death; all hopes are long gone. Death is hanging from the ceiling like a garland woven of venomous snakes, About to pierce my neck; and drink my wither sorrow on the take. My imposter inner voice allures me; I am cold and in despair. A shadowless eerie voice haunts me for ages, now vent clear. " Death is waiting for you dear. Just a mere illusion, another path to share. The ruse of freedom to snatch away your wisdom. " And finally, lights dimmed out I drown into the abysmal of cold darkness, the death's route. 2) Counting Love: How much I love you, shall I count and count, not profound as Mediterranean, nor umpteen constellation to recount, not blaze magma of subterranean, nor kudos of flamboyant legacy. Our seraphic bond effloresces under the stars, our clandestine love drapes supremacy. Waning winter moon duende our scars. My moon stuck mind gazes our constellation, our asterism, conceal you in bolides. My heart has heimat in your complexation, where aghast vacivity subsides. You, my love, hold vast pride in this Sonnet, that will relive for ages to resonate. P.S- Both are pretty big. I hope still you will enjoy it.😊

You are writing for yourself. You writing your own thoughts and emotions. Why should you stop for others? Poetry has no specific genre nothing is too much emotional or too much dark. Just write with heart and don't be nervous about sharing your work. Carry on, dear.💖💖