Rupi Kaur - Milk and Honey

for
the arms
that hold me

my heart woke me crying last night
how can i help i begged
my heart said
write the book

contents

how is it so easy for you
to be kind to people he asked
milk and honey dripped
from my lips as i answered
cause people have not
been kind to me

the first boy that kissed me
held my shoulders down
like the handlebars of
the first bicycle
he ever rode
i was five
he had the smell of
starvation on his lips
which he picked up from
his father feasting on his mother at 4 a.m.
he was the first boy
to teach me my body was
for giving to those that wanted
that i should feel anything
less than whole
and my god
did i feel as empty
as his mother at 4:25 a.m.

it is your blood
in my veins
tell me how im
supposed to forget

the therapist places
the doll in front of you
it is the size of girls
your uncles like touching
point to where his hands were
you point to the spot
between its legs the one
he fingered out of you
like a confession
howre you feeling
you pull the lump
in your throat out
with your teeth
and say fine
numb really

- midweek sessions

he was supposed to be
the first male love of your life
you still search for him
everywhere

- father

you were so afraid
of my voice
i decided to be
afraid of it too

she was a rose
in the hands of those
who had no intention
of keeping her

every time you
tell your daughter
you yell at her
out of love
you teach her to confuse
anger with kindness
which seems like a good idea
till she grows up to
trust men who hurt her
cause they look so much
like you

- to fathers with daughters

ive had sex she said
but i dont know
what making love
feels like

if i knew what
safety looked like
i would have spent
less time falling into
arms that were not

sex takes the consent of two
if one person is lying there not doing anything
cause they are not ready
or not in the mood
or simply dont want to
yet the other is having sex
with their body its not love
it is rape

the idea that we are
so capable of love
but still choose
to be toxic

there is no bigger illusion in the world
than the idea that a woman will
bring dishonor into a home
if she tries to keep her heart
and her body safe

you pinned
my legs to
the ground
with your feet
and demanded
i stand up

the rape will
tear you
in half
but it
will not
end you

you have sadness
living in places
sadness shouldnt live

a daughter should
not have to
beg her father
for a relationship

trying to convince myself
i am allowed
to take up space
is like writing with
my left hand
when i was born
to use my right

- the idea of shrinking is hereditary

you tell me to quiet down cause
my opinions make me less beautiful
but i was not made with a fire in my belly
so i could be put out
i was not made with a lightness on my tongue
so i could be easy to swallow
i was made heavy
half blade and half silk
difficult to forget and not easy
for the mind to follow

he guts her
with his fingers
like hes scraping
the inside of a
cantaloupe clean

your mother
is in the habit of
offering more love
than you can carry
your father is absent
you are a war
the border between two countries
the collateral damage
the paradox that joins the two
but also splits them apart

emptying out of my mothers belly
was my first act of disappearance
learning to shrink for a family
who likes their daughters invisible
was the second
the art of being empty
is simple
believe them when they say
you are nothing
repeat it to yourself
like a wish
i am nothing
i am nothing
i am nothing
so often
the only reason you know
youre still alive is from the
heaving of your chest

- the art of being empty

you look just like your mother
i guess i do carry her tenderness well
you both have the same eyes
cause we are both exhausted
and the hands
we share the same wilting fingers
but that rage your mother doesnt wear that anger
youre right
this rage is the one thing
i get from my father

(homage to warsan shires inheritance )

when my mother opens her mouth
to have a conversation at dinner
my father shoves the word hush
between her lips and tells her to
never speak with her mouth full
this is how the women in my family
learned to live with their mouths closed

our knees
pried open
by cousins
and uncles
and men
our bodies touched
by all the wrong people
that even in a bed full of safety
we are afraid

father. you always call to say nothing in particular. youask what im doing or where i am and when the silencestretches like a lifetime between us i scramble to findquestions to keep the conversation going. what i long tosay most is. i understand this world broke you. it has beenso hard on your feet. i dont blame you for not knowinghow to remain soft with me. sometimes i stay up thinkingof all the places you are hurting which youll never careto mention. i come from the same aching blood. from thesame bone so desperate for attention i collapse in onmyself. i am your daughter. i know the small talk is theonly way you know how to tell me you love me. cause itis the only way i know how to tell you.