If you aren’t interested in my life, skip along, because I want to blog.

I’m in love with a fantastic human. I cannot believe it. He’s not only handsome & ambitious, he’s also just the most caring, brave, & kind person I have met other than my family & friends.

Last night, he looked at me & after thanking me for how much I do for him, he told me that I “do too much for everyone” & that I’m overworked & it was okay that I didn’t get dinner made until 1 in the morning (I did cook on point butter chicken though so yay for me), then he went on to ask me what he could do to make life easier on me. Then he went & tidied my room. :)

Then when I cried over my hurt heart (my ex smushed it & I was abused throughout a lot of points in my life) & apologized for how fucked up I was. He told me “you’re not fucked up though, baby, you’ve just been hurt one time too many.” He also got teary when I looked at him & said to me, “It’s that look, that one right there, that makes me feel like all the things I believe make me inferior are things you see & love about me.” I cried more then but happy ones. I know he has similar fears/insecurities/issues that my ex did, but he fights them off & sticks with me & has the hard conversations & what more could I ask for & how could I not love all his parts for being that person for me?

Today he helped me clean house & now I’m relaxing in a milk & honey bath, drinking a tangerine shandy, & listening to music. He’s waiting in bed for me to come out so we can watch New Girl & eat white chocolate ice cream that has raspberries swirls & dark chocolate truffle pieces in it. XD

No one ever settle & if your heart is broken, don’t wall yourself away forever. Love will always come back to you if you just keep that door cracked. I didn’t think it would for me, but here we are. I love you guys. A lot. All of your stories are just starting, so get excited for the possibilities. They really are endless.

mooneyedandglowing:

absentpoetics:

Here I am with my awkward face and equally awkward peace sign, to encourage ALL OF YOU to buy The Flames & The Seas by Moriah Pearson mooneyedandglowing
Like seriously, get on it.  You won’t regret it.

HAY THAT’S MY BOOK WITH A PRETTY GIRL’S FACE. XDIf anyone else wants to be a pretty girl (or boy/unicorn/anything else you want) with my first book of poetry, you can buy it in lots of places. The e-book runs for about $5.00 & the physical copy of the book runs for around $8.00. The book is written from an LGBT perspective (I’m a bisexual woman) & touches on topics from love to domestic violence to mental illness/self-harm to self-image & more. Here’s some links for places you can buy:Choose the Sword Press offers both an e-book & physical copy (Scroll down on the link)Amazon offers an e-book for the Kindle & a physical copyBarnes & Noble offers an e-book compatible for the Nook & a physical copyLulu offers a physical copyYou can also get the e-book via iBooks & some various other places. Huge thanks to everyone who has bought the book & supported me & my art thus far. This is my job & without you guys I couldn’t afford my ramen or continue trying to put my words out into the world. :) I love & appreciate you all. 

mooneyedandglowing:

absentpoetics:

Here I am with my awkward face and equally awkward peace sign, to encourage ALL OF YOU to buy The Flames & The Seas by Moriah Pearson
mooneyedandglowing

Like seriously, get on it.
You won’t regret it.

HAY THAT’S MY BOOK WITH A PRETTY GIRL’S FACE. XD

If anyone else wants to be a pretty girl (or boy/unicorn/anything else you want) with my first book of poetry, you can buy it in lots of places. The e-book runs for about $5.00 & the physical copy of the book runs for around $8.00. The book is written from an LGBT perspective (I’m a bisexual woman) & touches on topics from love to domestic violence to mental illness/self-harm to self-image & more. Here’s some links for places you can buy:

Choose the Sword Press offers both an e-book & physical copy (Scroll down on the link)

Amazon offers an e-book for the Kindle & a physical copy

Barnes & Noble offers an e-book compatible for the Nook & a physical copy

Lulu offers a physical copy

You can also get the e-book via iBooks & some various other places.

Huge thanks
to everyone who has bought the book & supported me & my art thus far. This is my job & without you guys I couldn’t afford my ramen or continue trying to put my words out into the world. :) I love & appreciate you all. 

(via mooneyedandglowing)

I. I write in fragments because this body can only recite itself backwards. I balance your name on the head of my tongue only to watch it fall onto the concrete & into conversation. I remember eyes watching me do this, but not the color of them. I remember your eyes—lashes tipped with misery, two dark half-moons resting underneath them—how I even loved sadness when sadness had your name. Your name a gospel I used to sing back when you loved me, your name that now only crashes, breaks apart.

II. The aftertaste of love is vodka—pennies—steel. In the aftermath, in here—the heart, blood was beautiful until it wasn’t, until the body that kept it refused to die. The only marks of us fading softly into my skin as my voice thinks to dance on nails for forgiveness, but the cords snap—boomeranging wildly your name.

III. If you can’t remember it, the joy of love was never soft. I remember everything & everything hurt good or hurt bad, bruised or bloodied or pleasured or smiled with teeth. In your dreams, you were killing men without homes. In mine—& still in mine—we sit across from each other & watch as the room splinters. The tears weren’t always a punishment—remember that—& my words, my small hands trembling, remember emeralds in the sun, remember what courage was when it hid along your ribs, remember laughter & then me— remember the mirrored body of your body—the water from the same well—you almost killing you when you were trying to kill me—know how my body still stands—how both our bodies stand.

IV. This story—our September—now his. How to tell someone how you made me—how the heat turned my body into glass—how one explains the lineage of love to a lover. He calls you the past, but you still live here. Sure, I burn your memory at the stake—but when they look away, I cut you down, watch as your soul limps to the treeline. This is how I tell them how I loved you. This is where my face is pushed against a pillow. When he tells me not to move, I freeze & pray my body doesn’t shatter.

Moriah Pearson, letters to you: the last letter