mary-jane ⚢

i'm mj. 28. queer. she/her.

currently living in a small town in nj where nothing happens and no one is gay enough for me (except me. i'm very gay).

i'm a mom (yes really), into astrology (i will absolutely blame mercury retrograde for my problems), music that ruins my life and girls that do the same.

this blog is basically just me oversharing my gay little feelings. crushes, healing, identity spirals, moon transits and way too many posts about that one girl.

i don't have any queer friends irl and i'm really hoping to find some here.

so if you're wlw, mlm, trans, nb, bi, ace, aro, questioning, literally anywhere under the rainbow. hi. please talk to me.

reblog this. shoot me a message. tell me your birth chart or your current obsession. i'm open and awkward and ready to connect.

i just want people to talk to about love and identity and dumb crushes and whatever the moon is doing to us this week 🌙

pls be my friend <3

love had become something far away

a dream you wake from and pretend you don’t miss.

and then there was her.

sunlight against my ribs, moonlight in my chest.

i fell, terrified and trembling,

but her love held me like gravity,

quiet and certain.

i keep replaying her voice in my head.

her i love you’s.

her i’ll never hurt you’s.

it’s crazy how someone can be your whole universe one night and a stranger the next morning.

loving her

feels like the ocean at night

dark, endless,

but with stars reflected

in every wave

and i dive,

again and again,

never afraid of drowning

you are the storm

and the quiet after.

i’d drown in you

a thousand times

if i could pour my heart into your hands, i would

but you’d probably just smile and tell me you already have it

it’s the way you stand too close when you talk to me

the way your fingers find my jaw like they own the map

the way you look at my mouth like you’re already tasting me in your head

you’re all over me in ways people can’t see

in my hair when i catch a trace of your shampoo

in my pulse when i remember that kiss from last week

in the ghost of your touch on my thighs

being with you doesn’t feel like falling in love

falling sounds clumsy

this is more like drowning

but the water is warm and you’re pulling me under on purpose

and i don’t want air anyway

you’ve ruined me for sleeping alone

for drinking coffee without hearing your laugh across the table

for standing in front of a mirror without picturing your hands on my hips

pulling me back into you

you don’t even have to do anything

just exist

and i’m gone

you tilt your head

you raise your eyebrow

and i’m halfway to begging

baby, i swear i’ve never loved like this before

never wanted to wear someone’s scent on my skin all day

never wanted to memorize every birthmark, every shiver, every breath

it’s terrifying

the way you undo me

if the world ended tomorrow

her eyes are so blue it’s almost stupid

like i look at her and my brain just stops.

gone. done

i’m standing there with my whole gay little heart doing somersaults like a lovesick teenager

(i am so embarrassing)

she looks at me and it’s ocean, it’s sky

it’s every shade of blue that makes you want to drown

and i would. god i would

with a smile on my face

handing her the knife and saying here baby stab me with your pretty eyes

sometimes i think she doesn’t even know what she does to me

how i catch my breath when her gaze lands on me

how i feel it in my chest, low and aching

like my ribs are too small for all the love i’m carrying

she laughs, looks away

and i’m just left there

hands shaking, cheeks hot,

thinking about how lucky i am that this woman with the storm in her eyes

lets me love her

(for the girl who doesn’t know she’s beautiful)

you say stop it every time i call you pretty,

but you blush every time too.

like part of you wants to believe me

and part of you’s still scared to.

but here’s the truth:

you’re beautiful in the way flowers grow toward the light without realizing.

in the way your hands find mine when you’re not thinking.

in the way you smile at my kids like they’re already yours.

i see you.

in the morning light.

in messy hair and sleepy eyes.

in every moment you don’t think anyone’s watching.

and i swear

you are so much more than pretty

really looked.

with those soft, steady blue eyes like she was seeing something holy.

and for a second

i forgot what it felt like to be unloved.

like maybe in her eyes

i wasn't broken or too much or not enough

just someone worth looking at like that.

she didn't say a word.

she didn't have to.

some girls write poems with their mouths.

she writes them with her eyes.

and god

i'd let her look at me forever if she wanted to