The Sun and Her Flowers.  ,    
 


 . ,  
   ,   Milk and Honey,   39     3  .

The Sun and Her Flowers       ,      ,        .          , ,        .

            .

5- ,   





 

The Sun and Her Flowers:  ,    



		to my makers
		kamaljit kaur and suchet singh
		i am. because of you.
		i hope you look at us
		and think
		your sacrifi ces were worth it

		to my stunning sisters and brother
		prabhdeep kaur
		kirandeep kaur
		saaheb singh
		we are in this together

		you define love.


		 
		    .
		   .
		,     
		 ,
		     .

		    
		 ,
		 ,
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		   .

		 ,   .







Wilting




		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 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
		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 were all looking at it wrong
		we think its 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 didnt 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 its 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 dont
		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




  


		  ?    
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		  ,   ,
		 ,   ,
		    .

		   ,
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		   .
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		 ,
		     
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		     ,
		   
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		  ,   .

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		 ,      ,
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		   .

		     ,
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		    , 
		
		  ,   ,
		       ,
		        
		   ,   .

		    .
		    .
		     ,  ,
		     .
		   :
		    ,
		  ,    ,
		   .
		       ,
		  .

		 ,   
		 ,   ,   
		 ,   .
		   ,  .




		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
		didnt 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

		,
		     
		    .
		   
		     .
		,    
		     
		 .
		,
		   - ,
		  :
		,
		  ,
		    ,     .
		      
		      .
		?     .
		  ,   ,
		  ,    .

		youre 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 couldnt 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 im alone
		and my mind cant stop itself from searching for you
		there is a list of questions i want to ask
		so if youre listening somewhere
		here i am asking them

		what do you think happens
		to the love thats 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 id 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
		dont you lie to me
		i can tell when youre lying
		cause theres always that little bit of
		arrogance in your response

		are you angry with me
		are you okay
		and would you tell me if youre not
		and if we ever see each other again
		do you think youd reach out and hold me
		like you said you would
		the last time we spoke and
		you talked of the next time we would
		or do you think wed just look
		shake in our skin as we pine to
		absorb as much as we can of each other
		cause by this time weve probably got
		someone else waiting at home
		we were good together werent we
		and is it wrong that im asking you these questions
		tell me love
		that you have been
		looking for these answers too

		you call to tell me you miss me
		i turn to face the front door of the house
		waiting for a knock
		days later you call to say you need me
		but still arent here
		the dandelions on the lawn
		are rolling their eyes in disappointment
		the grass has declared you yesterdays news
		what do i care
		if you love me
		or miss me
		or need me
		when you arent doing anything about it
		if im not the love of your life
		ill be the greatest loss instead







		  ,
		    ,     .
		  ,
		     
		 ,   .
		     .
		  ,     ,
		 ,   - .
		,   .

		  ,  
		 ,   ,
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		 ,    
		 ,  ?
		  
		     -,
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		    ?
		     ,
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		    .
		    ,  .

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		    .

		  
		 ,      ?
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		   ,
		 ,
		   ,
		         .
		      ,
		    .

		where do we go from here my love
		when its over and im standing between us
		whose side do i run to
		when every nerve in my body is pulsing for you
		when my mouth waters at the thought
		when you are pulling me in just by standing there
		how do i turn around and choose myself

		 ,   ,
		       ,
		   ?
		        ,
		      ,
		   ,      ,
		     ?




		day by day i realize
		everything i miss about you
		was never there in the first place

the person i fell in love with was a mirage
		      :
		,       ,
		     .

,   ,  
		they leave
		and act like it never happened
		they come back
		and act like they never left

ghosts
		 
		   ,      .
		 
		   ,     .





		i tried to find it
		but there was no answer
		at the end of the last conversation

closure
		   ,
		     
		  .

 
		you ask
		if we can still be friends
		i explain how a honeybee
		does not dream of kissing
		the mouth of a flower
		and then settle for its leaves

i dont need more friends
		 ,
		    .
		 ,  ,
		    ,
		   .

    



		why is it
		that when the story ends
		we begin to feel all of it

		,
		   ,
		     ?

		rise
		said the moon
		and the new day came
		the show must go on
		said the sun
		life does not stop for anybody
		it drags you by the legs
		whether you want to move forward or not
		that is the gift
		life will force you to forget how you long for them
		your skin will shed till there is not
		a single part of you left theyve touched
		your eyes finally just your eyes
		not the eyes which held them
		you will make it to the end
		of what is only the beginning
		go on
		open the door to the rest of it

time



		,
		 ,
		   .
		  ,   .
		    ,
		   ,
		    ,
		  .
		     .
		   ,   
		   ,   .
		  -   ,
		  ,   .
		    ,
		      .
		 ,
		  ,   .








Falling





		i notice everything i do not have
		and decide it is beautiful

		  ,   ,
		 ,   .




		i hardened under the last loss. it took something human out of me. iused to be so deeply emotional id crumble on demand. but now the water has made its exit. of course i care about the ones around me. im just struggling to show it. awall is getting in the way. iused to dream of being so strong nothing could shake me. now. iam. so strong. that nothing shakes me.
		and all i dream is to soften.

numbness
		   .     - .   ,     .     . ,   ,    .     ,     .     ,      . . .  .    . ,    ,   .


		yesterday
		when i woke up
		the sun fell to the ground and rolled away
		flowers beheaded themselves
		all thats left alive here is me
		and i barely feel like living

depression is a shadow living inside me
		,
		  ,
		      ,
		  ,
		   ,  ,
		     .

   ,   



		why are you so unkind to me
		my body cries

		cause you dont look like them
		i tell her

		     ?
		  .

		        ,
		  .

		you are waiting for someone
		who is not coming back
		meaning
		you are living your life
		hoping that someone will realize
		they cant live theirs without you

realizations dont work like that
		  -,
		  ,
		 ,
		 ,
		 -  ,
		     .

   



		a lot of times
		we are angry at other people
		for not doing what
		we should have done for ourselves

responsibility
		
		      ,
		    -,
		    .


		why
		did you leave a door
		hanging
		open between my legs
		were you lazy
		did you forget
		or did you purposely leave me unfinished

conversations with god
		
		  
		
		  ?
		  ,
		 
		   ,    ?

  



		they did not tell me it would hurt like this
		no one warned me
		about the heartbreak we experience with friends
		where are the albums
		i thought
		there were no songs sung for it
		i could not find the ballads
		or read the books dedicated to writing the grief
		we fall into when friends leave
		it is the type of heartache that
		does not hit you like a tsunami
		it is a slow cancer
		the kind that does not show up for months
		has no visible signs
		is an ache here
		a headache there
		but manageable
		cancer or tsunami
		it all ends the same
		a friend or a lover
		a loss is a loss is a loss

the underrated heartache
		  ,    ,
		   
		  ,    .
		    ,  ,
		    ,
		      
		  ,   ,
		  ,    .
		    ,
		    ,  ,
		 ,   ,
		   
		    .
		    ,
		  ,
		 - .
		  ,
		 ,  :
		   ,
		 , , .

  
		i hear a thousand kind words about me
		and it makes no difference
		yet i hear one insult
		and all confidence shatters

focusing on the negative
		      ,
		    .
		   ,
		    .

  






home


		it began as a typical thursday from what i recall
		sunlight kissed my eyelids good morning
		i remember it exactly
		climbing out of bed
		making coffee to the sound of children playing outside
		putting music on
		loading the dishwasher
		i remember placing flowers in a vase
		in the middle of the kitchen table
		only when my apartment was spotless
		did i step into the bathtub
		wash yesterday out of my hair
		i decorated myself
		like the walls of my home were decorated
		with frames bookshelves photos
		i hung a necklace around my neck
		hooked earrings in
		applied lipstick like paint
		swept my hair back  just your typical thursday

		we ended up at a get-together with friends
		at the end you asked if i needed a ride home and

		i said yes cause our dads worked at the same company
		and youd been to my place for dinner many times

		but i should have known
		when you began to confuse

		kind conversation with flirtation
		when you told me to let my hair down
		when instead of driving me home
		toward the bright intersection
		of lights and life  you took a left
		to the road that led nowhere
		i asked where we were going
		you asked if i was afraid
		my voice threw itself over the edge of my throat
		landed at the bottom of my belly and hid for months
		all the different parts in me
		turned the lights off
		shut the blinds
		locked the doors
		while i hid at the back of some
		upstairs closet of my mind as
		someone broke the windows  you
		kicked the front door in  you
		took everything
		and then someone took me
		it was you.

		who dove into me with a fork and a knife
		eyes glinting with starvation
		like you hadnt eaten in weeks
		i was a hundred and ten pounds of fresh meat
		you skinned and gutted with your fingers
		like you were scraping the inside of a cantaloupe clean
		as i screamed for my mother
		you nailed my wrists to the ground
		turned my breasts into bruised fruit

		this home is empty now
		no gas
		no electricity
		no running water
		the food is rotten
		from head to foot i am layered in dust
		fruit flies. webs. bugs.
		someone call the plumber
		my stomach is backed up  ive been vomiting since
		call the electrician
		my eyes wont light up
		call the cleaners to wash me up and hang me to dry

		when you broke into my home
		it never felt like mine again
		i cant even let a lover in without getting sick
		i lose sleep after the first date
		lose my appetite
		become more bone and less skin
		forget to breathe
		every night my bedroom becomes a psych ward
		where panic attacks turn men
		into doctors to keep me calm
		every lover who touches me  feels like you
		their fingers  you
		mouths  you
		until theyre not the ones
		on top of me anymore  its you

		and i am so tired
		of doing things your way
		it isnt working
		ive spent years trying to figure out
		how i could have stopped it
		but the sun cant stop the storm from coming
		the tree cant stop the ax
		i cant blame myself for having a hole
		the size of your manhood in my chest anymore
		its too heavy to carry your guilt  im setting it down
		im tired of decorating this place with your shame
		as if it belongs to me
		its too much to walk around with
		what your hands have done
		if its not my hands that have done it

		the truth comes to me suddenly  after years of rain
		the truth comes like sunlight
		pouring through an open window
		it takes a long time to get here
		but it all comes full circle
		it takes a broken person to come searching
		for meaning between my legs
		it takes a complete. whole. perfectly designed
		person to survive it
		it takes monsters to steal souls
		and fighters to reclaim them
		this home is what i came into this world with
		was the first home
		will be the last home
		you cant take it
		there is no space for you
		no welcome mat
		no extra bedrooms
		im opening all the windows
		airing it out
		putting flowers in a vase
		in the middle of the kitchen table
		lighting a candle
		loading the dishwasher with all of my thoughts
		until theyre spotless
		scrubbing the countertops
		and then
		i plan to step into the bathtub
		wash yesterday out of my hair
		decorate my body in gold
		put music on
		sit back
		put my feet up
		and enjoy
		this typical thursday afternoon







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