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The Sun and Her Flowers




  also by rupi kaur

  milk and honey

  the sun and her flowers copyright © 2017 by Rupi Kaur. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of reprints in the context of reviews.

  Andrews McMeel Publishing

  a division of Andrews McMeel Universal

  1130 Walnut Street, Kansas City, Missouri 64106

  www.andrewsmcmeel.com

  www.rupikaur.com

  ISBN: 978-1-4494-8889-5

  Library of Congress Control Number: 2017948761

  Illustrations and design by Rupi Kaur

  ATTENTION: SCHOOLS AND BUSINESSES

  Andrews McMeel books are available at quantity discounts with bulk purchase for educational, business, or sales promotional use. For information, please e-mail the Andrews McMeel Publishing Special Sales Department: specialsales@amuniversal.com.

  to my makers

  kamaljit kaur and suchet singh

  i am. because of you.

  i hope you look at us

  and think

  your sacrifices were worth it

  to my stunning sisters and brother

  prabhdeep kaur

  kirandeep kaur

  saaheb singh

  we are in this together

  you define love.

  contents

  wilting

  falling

  rooting

  rising

  blooming

  bees came for honey

  flowers giggled as they

  undressed themselves

  for the taking

  the sun smiled

  - the second birth

  on the last day of love

  my heart cracked inside my body

  i spent the entire night

  casting spells to bring you back

  i reached for the last bouquet of flowers

  you gave me

  now wilting in their vase

  one

  by

  one

  i popped their heads off

  and ate them

  i stuffed a towel at the foot of every door

  leave i told the air

  i have no use for you

  i drew every curtain in the house

  go i told the light

  no one is coming in

  and no one is going out

  - cemetery

  you left

  and i wanted you still

  yet i deserved someone

  who was willing to stay

  i spend days in bed debilitated by loss

  i attempt to cry you back

  but the water is done

  and still you have not returned

  i pinch my belly till it bleeds

  have lost count of the days

  sun becomes moon and

  moon becomes sun and

  i become ghost

  a dozen different thoughts

  tear through me each second

  you must be on your way

  perhaps it’s best if you’re not

  i am okay

  no

  i am angry

  yes

  i hate you

  maybe

  i can’t move on

  i will

  i forgive you

  i want to rip my hair out

  over and over and over again

  till my mind exhausts itself into a silence

  yesterday

  the rain tried to imitate my hands

  by running down your body

  i ripped the sky apart for allowing it

  - jealousy

  in order to fall asleep

  i have to imagine your body

  crooked behind mine

  spoon ladled into spoon

  till i can hear your breath

  i have to recite your name

  till you answer and

  we have a conversation

  only then

  can my mind

  drift off to sleep

  - pretend

  it isn’t what we left behind

  that breaks me

  it’s what we could’ve built

  had we stayed

  i can still see our construction hats lying

  exactly where we left them

  pylons unsure of what to guard

  bulldozers gazing out for our return

  the planks of wood stiff in their boxes

  yearning to be nailed up

  but neither of us goes back

  to tell them it is over

  in time

  the bricks will grow tired of waiting and crumble

  the cranes will droop their necks in sorrow

  the shovels will rust

  do you think flowers will grow here

  when you and i are off

  building something new

  with someone else

  - the construction site of our future

  i live for that first second in the morning

  when i am still half-conscious

  i hear the hummingbirds outside

  flirting with the flowers

  i hear the flowers giggling

  and the bees growing jealous

  when i turn over to wake you

  it starts all over again

  the panting

  the wailing

  the shock

  of realizing

  that you’ve left

  - the first mornings without you

  the hummingbirds tell me

  you’ve changed your hair

  i tell them i don’t care

  while listening to them

  describe every detail

  - hunger

  i envy the winds

  who still witness you

  i could be anything

  in the world

  but i wanted to be his

  i tried to leave many times but

  as soon as i got away

  my lungs buckled under the pressure

  panting for air i’d return

  perhaps this is why i let you

  skin me to the bone

  something

  was better than nothing

  having you touch me

  even if it was not kind

  was better than not having your hands at all

  i could take the abuse

  i could not take the absence

  i knew i was beating a dead thing

  but did it matter

  if the thing was dead

  when at the very least

  i had it

  - addiction

  you break women in like shoes

  loving you was breathing

  but that breath disappearing

  before it filled my lungs

  - when it goes too soon

  what love looks like

  what does love look like the therapist asks

  one week after the breakup

  and i’m not sure how to answer her question

  except for the fact that i thought love

  looked so much like you

  that’s when it hit me

  and i realized how naive i had been

 
to place an idea so beautiful on the image of a person

  as if anybody on this entire earth

  could encompass all love represented

  as if this emotion seven billion people tremble for

  would look like a five foot eleven

  medium-sized brown-skinned guy

  who likes eating frozen pizza for breakfast

  what does love look like the therapist asks again

  this time interrupting my thoughts midsentence

  and at this point i’m about to get up

  and walk right out the door

  except i paid far too much money for this hour

  so instead i take a piercing look at her

  the way you look at someone

  when you’re about to hand it to them

  lips pursed tightly preparing to launch into conversation

  eyes digging deeply into theirs

  searching for all the weak spots

  they have hidden somewhere

  hair being tucked behind the ears

  as if you have to physically prepare for a conversation

  on the philosophies or rather disappointments

  of what love looks like

  well i tell her

  i don’t think love is him anymore

  if love was him

  he would be here wouldn’t he

  if he was the one for me

  wouldn’t he be the one sitting across from me

  if love was him it would have been simple

  i don’t think love is him anymore i repeat

  i think love never was

  i think i just wanted something

  was ready to give myself to something

  i believed was bigger than myself

  and when i saw someone

  who could probably fit the part

  i made it very much my intention

  to make him my counterpart

  and i lost myself to him

  he took and he took

  wrapped me in the word special

  until i was so convinced he had eyes only to see me

  hands only to feel me

  a body only to be with me

  oh how he emptied me

  how does that make you feel

  interrupts the therapist

  well i said

  it kind of makes me feel like shit

  maybe we’re all looking at it wrong

  we think it’s something to search for out there

  something meant to crash into us

  on our way out of an elevator

  or slip into our chair at a cafe somewhere

  appear at the end of an aisle at the bookstore

  looking the right amount of sexy and intellectual

  but i think love starts here

  everything else is just desire and projection

  of all our wants needs and fantasies

  but those externalities could never work out

  if we didn’t turn inward and learn

  how to love ourselves in order to love other people

  love does not look like a person

  love is our actions

  love is giving all we can

  even if it’s just the bigger slice of cake

  love is understanding

  we have the power to hurt one another

  but we are going to do everything in our power

  to make sure we don’t

  love is figuring out all the kind sweetness we deserve

  and when someone shows up

  saying they will provide it as you do

  but their actions seem to break you

  rather than build you

  love is knowing whom to choose

  you cannot

  walk in and out of me

  like a revolving door

  i have too many miracles

  happening inside me

  to be your convenient option

  - not your hobby

  you took the sun with you

  when you left

  i remained committed

  long after you were gone

  i could not lift my eyes

  to meet eyes with someone else

  looking felt like betrayal

  what excuse would i have

  when you came back

  and asked where my hands had been

  - loyal

  when you plunged the knife into me

  you also began bleeding

  my wound became your wound

  didn’t you know

  love is a double-edged knife

  you will suffer the way you make me suffer

  i think my body knew you would not stay

  i long

  for you

  but you long

  for someone else

  i deny the one

  who wants me

  cause i want someone else

  - the human condition

  i wonder if i am

  beautiful enough for you

  or if i am beautiful at all

  i change what i am wearing

  five times before i see you

  wondering which pair of jeans will make

  my body more tempting to undress

  tell me

  is there anything i can do

  to make you think

  her

  she is so striking

  she makes my body forget it has knees

  write it in a letter and address it

  to all the insecure parts of me

  your voice alone drives me to tears

  yours telling me i am beautiful

  yours telling me i am enough

  you’re everywhere

  except right here

  and it hurts

  show me a picture

  i want to see the face of the woman

  who made you forget the one you had at home

  what day was it and

  what excuse did you feed me

  i used to thank the universe

  for bringing you to me

  did you enter her right as

  i asked the almighty

  to grant you all you wanted

  did you find it in her

  did you come crawling out of her

  with what you couldn’t in me

  what draws you to her

  tell me what you like

  so i can practice

  your absence is a missing limb

  questions

  there is a list of questions

  i want to ask but never will

  there is a list of questions

  i go through in my head

  every time i’m alone

  and my mind can’t stop itself from searching for you

  there is a list of questions i want to ask

  so if you’re listening somewhere

  here i am asking them

  what do you think happens

  to the love that’s left behind

  when two lovers leave

  how blue do you think it gets

  before it passes away

  does it pass away

  or does it still exist somewhere

  waiting for us to come back

  when we lied to ourselves by

  calling this unconditional and left

  which one of us hurt more

  i shattered into a million little pieces

  and those pieces shattered into a million more

  crumbled into dust till

  there was nothing left of me but
the silence

  tell me how love

  how did the grieving feel for you

  how did the mourning hurt

  how did you peel your eyes open after every blink

  knowing i’d never be there staring back

  it must be hard to live with what ifs

  there must always be this constant dull aching

  in the pit of your stomach

  trust me

  i feel it too

  how in the world did we get here

  how did we live through it

  and how are we still living

  how many months did it take

  before you stopped thinking of me

  or are you still thinking of me

  cause if you are

  then maybe i am too

  thinking of you

  thinking of me

  with me

  in me

  around me

  everywhere

  you and me and us

  do you still touch yourself to thoughts of me

  do you still imagine my naked naked tiny tiny body

  pressed into yours

  do you still imagine the curve of my spine and

  how you wanted to rip it out of me

  cause the way it dipped into my

  perfectly rounded bottom

  drove you crazy

  baby

  sugar baby

  sweet baby

  ever since we left

  how many times did you pretend

  it was my hand stroking you

  how many times did you search for me in your fantasies

  and end up crying instead of coming

  don’t you lie to me

  i can tell when you’re lying

  cause there’s always that little bit of

  arrogance in your response

  are you angry with me

  are you okay

  and would you tell me if you’re not

  and if we ever see each other again

  do you think you’d reach out and hold me

  like you said you would

  the last time we spoke and

  you talked of the next time we would