Milk and Honey

by Rupi Kaur

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

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

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

father. you always call to say nothing in particular. you ask what i’m doing or where i am and when the silence stretches like a lifetime between us i scramble to find questions to keep the conversation going. what i long to say most is. i understand this world broke you. it has been so hard on your feet. i don’t blame you for not knowing how to remain soft with me. sometimes i stay up thinking of all the places you are hurting which you’ll never care to mention. i come from the same aching blood. from the same bone so desperate for attention i collapse in on myself. i am your daughter. i know the small talk is the only way you know how to tell me you love me. cause it is the only way i know how to tell you.

he placed his hands on my mind before reaching for my waist my hips or my lips he didn’t call me beautiful first he called me exquisite - how he touches me

i do not want to have you to fill the empty parts of me i want to be full on my own i want to be so complete i could light a whole city and then i want to have you cause the two of us combined could set it on fire

you might not have been my first love but you were the love that made all the other loves irrelevant

you’ve touched me without even touching me

it’s your voice that undresses me

i didn’t leave because i stopped loving you i left because the longer i stayed the less i loved myself

that is the thing about selfish people. they gamble entire beings. entire souls to please their own.

the way they leave tells you everything

perhaps i don’t deserve nice things cause i am paying for sins i don’t remember

do not look for healing at the feet of those who broke you

the next time he points out the hair on your legs is growing back remind that boy your body is not his home he is a guest warn him to never outstep his welcome again

my issue with what they consider beautiful is their concept of beauty centers around excluding people

i want to apologize to all the women i have called pretty before i’ve called them intelligent or brave i am sorry i made it sound as though something as simple as what you’re born with is the most you have to be proud of when your spirit has crushed mountains from now on i will say things like you are resilient or you are extraordinary not because i don’t think you’re pretty but because you are so much more than that