For Christmas this year, my grandfather ended up giving me the best possible gift anyone could get me. A gift card to none other than Barnes and Noble! As soon as the holidays were over, I ran myself over to the store so that I could pick up the newest and highest recommended books I could find.

I've always been a sucker for poetry, anything that came written by Charles Bukowski was something I had to get my hands on. But today I set my sights on a different horizon, the bestselling book of Rupi Kaur, "Milk and Honey." But unfortunately, not much to my disbelief, when I arrived at the store, this book was completely sold out. I couldn't believe it! I was set on this piece of literature and I was going to leave without it? Not something I cope well with.

But thankfully, I just so happened to come across some poetry that seemed as though it was written just for me. I found Lullabies by Lang Leav, I was first drawn to the book because of its simplistic cover. But it was the words inside that made me throw the book into my cart and rush to the cashier to take it home.

The book, from what I hear, is put together much like that of Milk and Honey. Three chapters, known as "Duet," "Interlude and Finale." The beginning chapter tells of two people coming together, the second focuses mainly on the maintaining of that relationship. But the last talks to us about what it feels like to lose that great love. This book had me captivated from beginning to end, making it easy to visualize a relationship that starts as the greatest flame, only to be fizzled out just as fast.

Lang Leav brought to me a book that not only spoke to me but easily sang me to sleep with her words. This book will leave you not only breathless from the idea of love and loss. But it brings to you the hope that it could also come again. So I suggest, that after you finish with "Milk and Honey," you ease yourself into peace with Leav's "Lullabies."

I barely know you, she says, voice heavy with sleep. I don't know your favorite color or how you like your coffee. What keeps you up at night or the lullabies that sing you to sleep. I don't know a thing about the first girl you loved, why you stopped loving her or why you still do.

I don't know how many millions of cells you are made of and if they have any idea they are part of something so beautiful and unimaginably perfect.

I may not have a clue about any of these things, but this - she places her hand on his chest - this I know.

- Lang Leav