periodically, i have to check to see if i still dislike poetry. for character development.

unfortunately, this has had, in this case, an unforeseen side effect: THIS TIME, I DID.

i read this last month (okay, two months ago, what about it i’m terribly behind) and i felt this sneaky sinking feeling i should 5 star it. but not to worry, because i’m doing this new totally normal not at all deranged thing where if i want to give a book 5 stars, i have to reread it before i review it.

so usually i am reading said book twice in one month.

like i said - normal stuff.

so i read this again. it’s still a 5.

this is prose poetry, which in this case means a tiny little book divided into number paragraphs of stunning writing, not only doable for me but pretty ideal. generally it’s my favorite kind of book: lovely turns of phrase, filled with beautiful explorations of what it is to be human / to hurt / to feel / to love.

throw in a bunch of fun facts and interesting topics and observations about sex and i’m in love.

bottom line: i never in a million years expected to say this but…kind of a dream!