Rupi Kaur - 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: 97 - - -8 890-1 Library of Congress Control Number: 2 8761 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: . 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 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 its best if youre not i am okay
no i am angry
yes i hate you
maybe i cant 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 isnt what we left behind that breaks me its what we couldve 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 youve left - the first mornings without you the hummingbirds tell me youve changed your hair i tell them i dont 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 id 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 im not sure how to answer her question except for the fact that i thought love
looked so much like you thats 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 im 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 youre 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 dont think love is him anymore if love was him he would be here wouldnt he if he was the one for me wouldnt he be the one sitting across from me if love was him it would have been simple i dont 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
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