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
– Rupi Kaur, the sun and her flowers.
