Milk and Honey by Rupi Kaur Page A

the other person
doesn’t.

don’t mistake
salt for sugar
if he wants to
be with you
he will
it’s that simple

he only whispers i love you
as he slips his hands
down the waistband
of your pants

this is where you must
understand the difference
between want and need
you may want that boy
but you certainly
don’t need him

you were temptingly beautiful
but stung when i got close

the woman who comes after me will be a bootleg
version of who i am. she will try and write poems
for you to erase the ones i’ve left memorized on
your lips but her lines could never punch you in
the stomach the way mine did. she will then try to
make love to your body. but she will never
lick, caress, or suck like me. she will be a sad
replacement of the woman you let slip. nothing she
does will excite you and this will break her. when
she is tired of falling apart for a man that doesn’t
give back what he takes she will recognize me in
your eyelids staring at her with pity and it’ll hit her.
how can she love a man who is busy loving
someone he can never get his hands on again.

the next time you
have your coffee black
you’ll taste the bitter
state he left you in
it will make you weep
but you’ll never
stop drinking
you’d rather have the
darkest parts of him
than have nothing

more than anything
i want to save you
from myself

you have spent enough nights
with his manhood curled inside your legs
to forget what loneliness feels like

you whisper
i love you
what you mean is
i don’t want you to leave

that’s the
thing about love
it marinates your lips
till the only word your
mouth remembers
is his name

it must hurt to know
i am your most
beautiful
regret

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

you mustn’t have to
make them want you
they must want you themselves

did you think i was a city
big enough for a weekend getaway
i am the town surrounding it
the one you’ve never heard of
but always pass through
there are no neon lights here
no skyscrapers or statues
but there is thunder
for i make bridges tremble
i am not street meat i am homemade jam
thick enough to cut the sweetest
thing your lips will touch
i am not police sirens
i am the crackle of a fireplace
i’d burn you and you still
couldn’t take your eyes off me
cause i’d look so beautiful doing it
you’d blush
i am not a hotel room i am home
i am not the whiskey you want
i am the water you need
don’t come here with expectations
and try to make a vacation out of me

the one who arrives after you
will remind me love is
supposed to be soft

he will taste
like the poetry
i wish i could write

if
he can’t help but
degrade other women
when they’re not looking
if toxicity is central
to his language
he could hold you
in his lap and be soft
honey
that man could feed you sugar and
douse you in rose water
but that still could not
make him sweet
    - if you want to know the type of man he is

i am a museum full of art
but you had your eyes shut

you must have known
you were wrong
when your fingers
were dipped inside me
searching for honey that
would not come for you

the thing
worth holding on to
would not have let go

when you are broken
and he has left you
do not question
whether you were
enough
the problem was
you were so enough
he was not able to carry it

love made the danger
in you look like safety

even when you undress her
you are searching for me
i am sorry i
taste so good
when the two of you
make love it is
still my name
that rolls off your
tongue accidently

you treat them like they
have a heart like yours
but not everyone can be as
soft and as tender

you don’t see the
person they are
you see the person
they have the potential to be

you give and give till
they pull everything out of you
and leave you empty

i had to leave
i was tired of
allowing you to
make me feel
anything less
than whole

you were the most beautiful thing i’d ever felt till
now. and i was convinced you’d remain the