I’m not exactly sure where or how I stumbled upon Clementine Von Radics’ poetry but I remember finding out that my friend Esther already knew about her poetry and feeling rather betrayed that she hadn’t mentioned her to me before, because what else are friends for? Oh well, all that is now (troubled) water under the bridge.

I love the way this girl writes. She is one of those people who have mastered the art of expressing complex thoughts in a rather simple manner and sometimes simple thoughts in quite complex ways. She makes astute observations and words them beautifully. This book chronicles love and loss and is titled after one of the poems which I’ve heard became so popular on Tumblr, a few people added it to their wedding vows even. It wasn’t a favorite of mine though.

There are a lot of poems in this book which is more than can be said for many poetry collections these days and many of them are also pretty good! Here are some of my favorite quotes.

Grief comes for me every morning, dragging everything I never told you behind him like screaming children

The story behind art is that it is never a masterpiece until it has been bought and hung on the wall in someone else’s home.

I fear a story in which a stubborn wound does not stay stitched, but rips open with the flex of muscle.

I Am Jealous of Your Tattoos And how long they will stay with you after I go

I have been told that when someone dies, the worst part is not the blood, or the shock, or the long days after, where some child in you believes they are not really gone. No, the worst part comes later. When the world heals you too well and you begin to forget their face.

When the poems don’t come, go to sleep

Every Time a Man Yells I am seven years old again and he is packing that suitcase once more. Picking me up by the neck, teaching me obedience. To be soft, like the belly of a fish exposed to a knife.

Inside me are a lot of people, most of them good

I think I like my brain best in a bar fight with my heart

She will show up to your first date with a dustpan and broom, ready to pick up all the pieces I left you in

I’m not sure what to say about struggle except that it feels like a long, dark tunnel with no light at the end. You never notice until it’s over the ways it has changed you, and there is no going back

There were times I was reckless. In my struggle to survive I hurt others. Apologies do not make good bandages.

If you can get your hands on this book, do it. It’s such a great read. I gave it four out of five stars.