Rupi Kaur is a Canadian poet, illustrator, photographer, and author. Born in Punjab, India, Kaur emigrated to Canada at a young age with her family. She began performing poetry in 2009 and rose to fame on Instagram, eventually becoming a popular "Instapoet" through her three collections of poetry.
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
iknew 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 must enter a relationship with yourself before anyone else
I don't know what living a balanced life feels like
When i am sad i don't cry, i pour
When i am happy i don't smile, i glow
When i am angry i don't yell, i burn
The good thing about feeling in extremes is when i love i give them wings but perhaps that isn't such a good thing? Cause they always tend to leave.
And you should see me when my heart is broken — i don't grieve i shatter.
When you're broken and he's gone, don't torment yourself with the question:
were you enough?
The problem is something else: there were so many of you that he couldn't handle it.
I didn't leave because I stopped loving you. I left because the longer I stayed, the less I loved myself.
The next time you drink black coffee, you will feel its bitterness and cry, but you will never give it up, because even bitterness is better than nothing.
I always drag myself into it. I always let him call me extraordinary and partly believe it. I always jump with the conviction that he will catch me, and I fall. I'm hopeless. I am a romantic and a dreamer, and one day it will ruin me.
You said, "If it's meant to be, fate will bring us together again." For a second I thought, are you really that naive? Do you really believe that fate works like this? It's like she's in heaven watching us. It's like she has five fingers and all she cares about is moving us around like chess pieces. As if it's not a choice that we make ourselves. Who taught you that? Tell me, who convinced you that our heart and mind are worthless? That our actions do not determine what will happen to us? I want to shout at you and exclaim: "We are the fools. Only we ourselves are able to bring us together." But instead I sit quietly. I smile silently, even though my lips are trembling. Isn't it tragic that I see everything so clearly and he doesn't?
He asks me what i do
I tell him “I work for a small company that makes packaging for…”-he stops me midsentence
“No not what you do to pay the bills what drives you crazy what keeps you up at night”
I tell him i write. He asks me to show him something. I take the tips of my fingers place them inside his forearm and graze them down his wrist goose bumps rise to the surface. I see his mouth clench muscles tighten his eyes pore into mine as though i'm the reason for making them blink. I break gaze just as he inches toward me i step back.
“So that's what you do — you command attention”
My cheeks flush as i smile shyly confessing
“I can't help it”
Don't mistake salt for sugar. If he wants to be with you, he will. It's so simple.