I actually got my grubby potato like hands on this book as soon as it was released but never got around to it. I think I was waiting for a time when I felt ‘ready’ enough to sit down and read this.
That ‘right’ moment never came but the need for those words trumped my patience and as a result I spent a week during the end of September having this consume me from the inside out.
You don’t actually read Jeanann Verlee’s poetry. You consume it, you let it haunt every crevice of your body you weren’t aware existed and then you put it down.
There’s not much to do after that aside from taking deep breaths, repeatedly, until the heavy inside of you doesn’t feel like an anchor holding you to a reality you’ve been trying to escape but instead it reassures you that you aren’t alone, that there are others who understand, that love will never be what you think it is but that it’s okay. You’re here, you have made it this far and you are living despite.
Jeanann Verlee is a magic that you all need to experience.
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