Colleen Brown's Blog, page 101
December 31, 2014
"I wish we could have a do-over
because who we first appeared to be
is not who we are at all.
It was..."
I wish we could have a do-over
because who we first appeared to be
is not who we are at all.
It was never like us to scorn
in the idea of having to go to bed
next to one another. Actually,
it used to be a dream that we
once shared together.
When did we wake up and want
nothing but separation? When did we
start acting like our end was meant
to finish at the very beginning?
We used to be full of so much hope,
used to write about our future
together when all we wanted at all
was just to be beside one another.
And now that you’re gone,
now that you’re no longer by my side
or in my life, I can’t help but going
back to the moments before
you were here and when all that
you and I wanted was even to be
in the same room if that meant
being near each other at all.
- "If only we could see each other again, knowing what we know now," - Colleen Brown (via mostlyfiction)
"I wish we could have a do-over
because who we first appeared to be
is not who we are at all.
It was..."
I wish we could have a do-over
because who we first appeared to be
is not who we are at all.
It was never like us to scorn
in the idea of having to go to bed
next to one another. Actually,
it used to be a dream that we
once shared together.
When did we wake up and want
nothing but separation? When did we
start acting like our end was meant
to finish at the very beginning?
We used to be full of so much hope,
used to write about our future
together when all we wanted at all
was just to be beside one another.
And now that you’re gone,
now that you’re no longer by my side
or in my life, I can’t help but going
back to the moments before
you were here and when all that
you and I wanted was even to be
in the same room if that meant
being near each other at all.
- "If only we could see each other again, knowing what we know now," - Colleen Brown
December 30, 2014
""The men are talking now," is a phrase that I’ve heard
for 21 years too long now and I’m..."
"The men are talking now," is a phrase that I’ve heard
for 21 years too long now and I’m beginning to wonder
when it will be my turn to talk and who is actually listening.
Yes, this is a poem about feminism and if you’re already tired
of reading about it then be quiet, because the women are talking now.
I’ve noticed that whenever someone calls themselves a feminist
there are already questions about what’s happened to them
in their past, who hurt them, if they ever had a good relationship
with their father, already waiting on the tips of tongues
of those who don’t listen but wait for their turn to talk.
“Feminist”, she calls herself and immediately after that word
leaves her lips there are sounds of agonizing moans
from not only men but the women in her life that she once thought
were her idols. Now she can’t say feminist without saying
that she’s sorry or that she doesn’t mean to offend anyone.
I’ve been asking myself for awhile now when did progress
mean torture and when did wanting to better not only yourself
but the women who you have watched struggle
while holding their rightful tongue, mean too sensitive
of a subject to touch base on?
This is not only for me but this is for the women I’ve seen
walk to their car with four keys in between each space
of their fingers, wanting to make it safe home but having to worry
about even making it alive out of the darkness.
"A man must have really hurt you for you to hate men so much.",
but even if a man has hurt me in the past I am the one who must have
agitated him and deserved the bruises along my cheekbone.
I should have been the one to shut my mouth while he spewed
emotional violence towards me, but being the woman that I am,
being how all women are, I just didn’t know when to stop.
Because growing up as a young girl we are taught by those
who have used their fists to prove their point, that there is nothing
worse than ending up alone, and that we need to do
whatever we can to make a man love us, even if that means
having to change who we are completely for their satisfaction.
"Feminism," I say in a whisper in hopes that no one will hear me
and try to tell me that I have no right, or that because it hasn’t
happened to me, or that I have it good and have no right
to complain, or that I am complaining and not teaching
and that whenever I say the word entitles that I hate all men.
"Feminism," leaves his mouth and he laughs as he tells
my cousin and I that he would punch a girl in the face
if he couldn’t get in trouble for it. He looks at me straight
in the eye and winks and I can actually feel myself holding on
my keys tighter, pulling my beer closer, looking around the room
to see the safest and most efficient exit before he calls me a slut
for wearing a skirt and not fucking him like my outfit said I would.
I have my fathers number on speed dial,
my oldest brother knows where I’m at all times just in case,
my mother tells me not to stay out too late,
my sister tells me that I should take it as a compliment,
my friend is fucking her boyfriend in the other room
because his ex girlfriend was at the party too.
"Feminist," I say out loud to myself when I’m in my bed,
proud and unalarmed.
"Feminist," I call myself with no hesitation, no fear, no turning back.
"Feminist," the word that only those who really know what it means
will call you and make you feel as if you really are doing something right.
- "I’m not fighting fire with fire when the only thing I am using is water," - Colleen Brown
December 29, 2014
the clouds wouldn’t stop rolling
the clouds wouldn’t stop rolling
"I woke up this morning with the blinds wide open
and the foggy sun shining on the end of my..."
and the foggy sun shining on the end of my bed.
I’ve been having the same dream now for a couple of nights,
where I am lost but I am home but my own room
doesn’t feel like my room because there is too much
empty space. I took my sketchbook off of my nightstand
and started writing a poem on a blank sheet of paper,
you know, a poem that always starts off the same
and always ends on the same point. A poem that begins
with myself wandering off without you
and ends with you and I meeting again and picking up
where we should have never left off. But I am
writing again and even if it has the same rhythmic tone
as the last poem I wrote I am proud that my hand
even found the strength to pick up the pen.”
- "I’m always writing about you," - Colleen Brown
December 28, 2014
"I will protect you even when there is not enough strength in me to defend myself. When it comes to..."
- "For my best friend who is struggling to believe that there is someone still on her side," - Colleen Brown
We could go on pretending
that none of this happened,
that our love was a story
that has been banned...
We could go on pretending
that none of this happened,
that our love was a story
that has been banned and then
burned, never to have existed
at all. We could deny it all
we want to ourselves
but in the end our history
will be the kind of story
that once is read will never
be able to leave the minds
of those who can see themselves
inside of our own haunting tale.
December 27, 2014
I wonder if I come into your thoughts at all
I wonder if I come into your thoughts at all
"how to make your way towards happiness,"
"how to make your way towards happiness,"
Colleen Brown's Blog
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