Free The Sun and Her Flowers by Rupi Kaur

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