Colleen Brown's Blog, page 126
September 19, 2014
"I like the way your hands
move in the sunlight. Even better,
I like the way your hands move
against..."
move in the sunlight. Even better,
I like the way your hands move
against skin that does not
belong to you. You say so much
but really you keep the most
important words to yourself.
Or better yet, you write that chaotic
mess of meaning into poetry.
How do you do it? How can you
love so many but insist
that you do not deserve
the same love in return? I’ve never
met someone as selfless
as you. I’ve never come across
another person who is able to
give others the amount of hope
that you do. So why not give
some of that energy to yourself?
You’ve spent so much of your time
trying to fix the broken pieces
of those who will just leave
once they are patched up.
Do you think that’s fair? Do you
think that’s love? Have you tried
stitching up your own wounds
before using that thread
on someone who will only end up
tearing it out. Now I know that this
reads more like a lesson
than it does a love poem,
but I am being aggressive because
I love you more than anyone
could ever promise. I hope you
don’t hate me after this. I hope
you don’t see your faults
as flaws, or your dedication
as something that should be
removed. You are beautiful,
and you are as gentle as the way
the morning kisses the mist.
So please, try to love yourself
more. Try to see that you are
much more than a nurturer
to the weak. Try to see that you
need love just as much
as those who have been swallowed
by their own darkness.
You radiate so much light
that I know it can be hard to see
the shadows in your eyes.
But I see them, and I know you are
not as strong as you say.
So turn over your open sign,
lock the doors and use your time
off to say to yourself what you
always seem to say to others;
you are beautiful and you will
survive, I promise. Because if
there is anyone that can turn
their pain into poetry, their pain
into a new way of healing,
it’s you.”
- "A love poem to myself," - Colleen Brown
He left without warning,
without words, without
a trace of regret on his
path. He made me...
He left without warning,
without words, without
a trace of regret on his
path. He made me feel
invincible, important,
like I was someone that
he could never leave
behind. But he left me
behind with all this mess.
All these memories
that I thought we would
keep building on.
He left me without any
trace of returning,
and I can honestly say
that this has been
the most difficult
memory to rid of.
September 18, 2014
You were in my dream last night. We were inside of the life that we were always meant to...
You were in my dream
last night. We were inside
of the life that we were
always meant to have.
Bathing in the feeling
of what happened
instead of what if.
In this dream of holding
on to the love that reality
took from us when we
needed it most,
we thrived in the light
of our everlasting
intimacy.
September 17, 2014
like this if ur online
like this if ur online
"I don’t have to ask you if you’ve been through the pain of heartbreak to know that you have. I can..."
- "I stick to my promises, I promise you," - Colleen Brown
I think what terrifiesmy mind the mostis knowing that there is someoneout there who lovesme, but not...
I think what terrifies
my mind the most
is knowing that
there is someone
out there who loves
me, but not knowing
if or when I will ever
be able to find them.
September 15, 2014
I know that I’m stupid for still loving you. I know that nothing would ever be the same even...
I know that I’m stupid for still loving you. I know that nothing would ever be the same even if we picked up from where we left off. I know that we are both tired from fighting for this. I know that we shouldn’t have given up. I know that we should have just stayed. I know that we will see each other again someday. I know that we will speak to one another again someday. I know that we always want more even when we have something that could keep us content. I know that even when we think we hate each other for all the pain we have put ourselves through we will still always care. I know that you still love me. I know that you always have. I know that even when you claim you have replaced my memory with the feeling of a new lover that my touch will always be one that you can never seem to rid of from your skin. I know that we will forgive each other for all of this someday. I know that we will look back on all those short moments we had together and never understand how we could have let them go so easily. I know that at one point we were happy. I know that what we always wrote about was exactly what we had. I know that there is a part of us that still wants this. I know that I still love you. I know that I never stopped loving you, and I know that I never will.
"When I first felt hatred
for myself, I was 11 years old.
It was two weeks before
starting middle..."
for myself, I was 11 years old.
It was two weeks before
starting middle school
and I would enter adolescence
with self-doubt and fresh
wounds on the surface
of my premature skin.
As it goes with every new
sudden feeling, I felt alone
in the journey that was
set before me. I’m 21 years
old now and all of those
open wounds have healed
and have become small stories
on my body. Tales that I would
go on to repeat to any newcomer
that recognized scar tissue
in places that could only be
self-inflected. Since then,
looking back on those 10 years
of searching for myself
with the help of sharp objects
that had no say in what might
be best, I have taken those
throbbing experiences
and have turned them into
hope for new wanderers
who may have crossed
the path of darkness before
reaching the field of light.
Still, I look down at my limbs
and see the weakness hiding
beneath new tissue. I can
still hear it calling to me
to open them up one more time.
I cover up my wrists
with my armor and look ahead
to my path, to my not yet
completed journey.
The first time I felt the richness
of self-doubt was when I was
11 years old. Barley old enough
to see the outcome of what
my hands were truly capable of.
10 years of solitude
masked with bandaids
and bracelets and now my skin
is finally able to breathe.
Now I can see that what I was
trying to destroy all along
would be the only thing
that served as my protective
shield. Now I can stretch
my arms outward and show
my once so powerful
self-doubt that it no longer
will be able to reach me.”
- "My victory lives beneath my skin," - Colleen Brown
and not eventhe oceans tidescould part our heartsfrom...
and not even
the oceans tides
could part our hearts
from returning
to one another.
"In the morning before work
it’s a struggle to look
in the mirror. The last time I did,
I..."
it’s a struggle to look
in the mirror. The last time I did,
I couldn’t leave my house
for five days. I called in sick
at work and I did not mourn using
my personal days to collect the pieces
of myself that I lost in the sink
after attempting to scrap
off all the ugly from my skin.
My family didn’t think much of it.
Figured some boy from school
broke my heart and knew
that I would someday find
the strength inside of myself
to put it back together. But this
was not the case at hand,
and some parts of me wanted to
believe that they knew this struggle
went much deeper than being
rejected by some hormonal teen.
I hoped that they would see
the cracked mirror in the bathroom
and the spots of blood in the sink;
my fingers swollen and bruised
by trying to destroy the monster
inside of my own reflection.
As the days went on, no one said
anything. My mother even tried to
set me up with one of her coworkers
son in hopes that he could
pull me from my own despair.
I said “No, he’s not my type.”,
but what I wanted her to hear
was the sound of me giving up
hope in others who may be able to
love me. I wanted her to hear
the echo in my voice, for her to listen
to the sound of my own personal war
brewing inside my body.”
- "The internal and invisible war," - Colleen Brown
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