browngirlanonymous
There are days I miss you, even when you’re right beside me. So much has changed and things are so different. I wonder if we’ll really make this work or just die miserable, trying in futility. I wonder if the baggage is too much and the weight will crush us, crush me. I don’t know if I can count on you or ever learn to let myself expect things from you. I don’t know how to be in a relationship with you without all this shit hanging over our heads. You say we’ll work because we’ve worked before. We were children. We are grown now and we do not possess the ability to ignore childish mistakes and incongruities as we did then. Now, we must be accountable for our actions. And so far, none of our actions have been good, not for us, not for the world, not for you, and definitely not for me. But I don’t have the strength to really let you go, move on, live my life without you. No. I need you to be the one to break it off. I need you to be the one to set fire to twelve years of comfort. I need to stand there and watch it all burn down. I need to know that nothing will come rising out of the ashes. That’s my problem. And you know this: I know you know this. Because this is how you control me. This is how you reel me in every time I say ‘I’m done’. This is how you pull me back in and this is how you get me to ignore my gut and our lack of actual resolution. That’s the thing. We will talk and talk and talk and talk. We’ll talk for hours, days, months: and never resolve a damn thing because you’ll never change. Ultimately, I’m not worth changing for, I’m not worth fighting for. I’m not worth a damn thing, really. What will become of us? Tell me, what will become of us? When will I stop missing your lips on me and your head in my lap and your arms around me? When will I stop missing your voice and your face and your scent? When will I stop missing us, even though ‘us’ never really existed? When will you stop lying to me?
Me, about you. (via browngirlanonymous)
browngirlanonymous
I’ve fallen in love with you half a dozen times already. It’s been terribly wonderful and incredibly painful through all of the broken hearts, the fights, the tears, the laughter, the kisses, the warmth. Even then, despite all of the bullshit, I’d fall in love with you half a dozen times more. In this life, the next, and the one after that. God help me, I would.
Me, about you. (via browngirlanonymous)
browngirlanonymous

Rule #19

browngirlanonymous:

Fight for her. Protect her, be it from the entire world or the tiniest mosquito. Make her feel safe. But more importantly, make her feel secure; in your life, your relationship, in your love. Anything less than that is failure and you are not worth her time.

This goes both ways. If she isn’t fighting for you then you have every right to walk away. But if she is and you still can’t be the man she needs, that’s on you.

neverletdreamsfade
Men never change, ladies. They promise promises they can’t keep, let you dream dreams they can’t fulfill, and then leave like leaving is the only thing they were made to do. Be your own woman; don’t ever let a man be the center of your universe unless you’re prepared to watch that center walk away.
Me, about you. (via browngirlanonymous)
browngirlanonymous

Bleeding Hearts

As a woman I am battered and worn beyond repair; tattered and torn

Between a love I lost and a demanding despair that
engulfs me as stainless steel shines bright in white lights.

The man in the pale lab coat asks if I’m sure.

I silently sign, yes, too far gone to decline, too empty to reassure

Myself.

I pretend you are here with me,

Holding my hand and giving me your name.

But you aren’t. Even now, though, I still can’t find the will to blame

You. Unaware of my indecision when I asked “What do I do?”

You said, “I’m not ready for this. But it is up to you,”

‘Your body; your decision.’ That’s what all the pamphlets say.

Marketing precision omits the desolate sadness you will bleed

For weeks, uterine lining sheds unfettered by human growth each day.

I tell you “It is done.” When I mean to say, “Forgive me, for our baby is dead.”

So, forgive me.

Today I ask forgive the blood I bled.

browngirlanonymous

Bleeding hearts beat endlessly.


Tears flow as rivers of blood bleed
Through the last breaths
Of my broken Heart
A heart, stricken with grief
Without an ability to weep
If only for a single heartbeat.

Anger seems the only choice;
A certain serenity, within the certainty of Rage
For my Incapability, rejoice He who sees
Simplicity, sacraments, and poise
In my delicate condition, Please.
Peace, we find, in this constant rhythm
Of my bleeding heart
Beating endlessly
As forgiveness flows
From a fountain of youthful dreams
And habitual tendencies as
We sit and weep
Holding in our patient tears
For the blood I bled
Which now, engulfs me and mine
Whilst waiting for this feeling of dread
To pass with time, however
a lifetime we’ll spend, bleeding.

Because bleeding hearts beat endlessly.
Twice now, our future insecure
Forgive me, mine. Forgive me for
This bleeding broken heart, hopelessly beating and torn.
Endlessly beating, forever more.