New poetry book by Lang Leav (book review)

When I read the first few pages, I felt so out of touch with this book.

It seemed like Lang and I were not in the same page anymore, just like we did in her previous books.

But the more I read, the more I discovered that “hey, we’re still on the same page!”

Lang was and still, has a way with words.

I found bits and pieces of myself here and there, in between the pages, sitting side by side between the words and syllables.

As I soaked up all of her words, I couldn’t help but let my mind wandered around, replaying the memories I shared with that one person like a broken record.

I couldn’t help but only thought of that one person.

Here’s my favourite part from the book:

“I thought of how every living thing dies alone. And I wondered if it was better to grasp the meaning of loss while I still had everything to lose. Or if I would prefer loss remain incomprehensible up until the aftermath.”

——

“You believed your understanding of me to be absolute when you had barely scratched the surface. There were times I peeled back the layers of skin, but I caught a glimpse of your disgust at each interval, felt reduced by your summation of me in those moments, felt myself retreating from you like a wounded animal.”

——

“You haven’t said a word to me in such a long while —

Why?

I am waiting for things to pass

Such as?

Such as my hurt

Such as your memory of me

Such as time”

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