The Death of Darkness

I decided to design a cover for fun and ended up really liking it. What do you think?!

Death of Darkness is my newest gem, a chapbook which tells a story of a love between the Night and the Moon. Not available yet, but follow for updates and free poetry and stories during the wait. (:

Here’s a sample of the style, a story between actual star-crossed lovers.

As always, thank you for your continued support. If you’ve had a chance to read any of my work, likes, comments, critiques and Amazon reviews would mean the world to me.

Something you want to see? Suggestions? Let me know.

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Waning Crescent

Another poem from my chapbook in production. Previously referred to as La Nuit et La Lune, I decided an English title would be more appropriate. I’m thinking The Death of Darkness. Thoughts? Follow for more free content and updates on upcoming releases. (:

This chapbook is intended to tell a story of a love between the Night and the Moon. They take you through a spiritual and magical journey for the life of celestial beings, and share struggle we feel humanity claims alone. The Death of Darkness is a story of love, death, rebirth and art. Look for it on Amazon spring of 2021.

Holding Hands With Your Ghost

Who by the window makes a sound
Upon the second story
How do your feet not touch the ground
And still you are not falling

As moments fade to memory
I freeze the fleeting feelings

I make love to the wind
Hands clenched to the curtains

I’ll fly with the witches
Somehow find the courage

I, by the sword do swear
I shall not blink an eye
I’ll die in greatest care
‘Long as you’re by my side

Bedtime Stories & Morning Glory

Not every night needs a story
Not every day needs a song
Not all mistakes need a sorry
Not all failures prove you wrong

I sit beside my bed
Watching me in slumber
Am I asleep or dead?
Neither give me comfort

If I fall into a tale
That Mother used to tell
And leave a breadcrumb trail
To get back to where I fell

Would the story be the same-
As when I was young and wide-eyed
Covert claims contained
With hope to imply

That stories birth dreams
But they were given to me

I want to write my own
The unknown guarantees

If the blue bird doesn’t sing
To thank the sun for shining
That isn’t sense to think
There’s no such thing as morning

A collection of pieces by Jenny Toupin

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