Novel & Cerita Booktok Poetry

I said, pointing to the nearby shelf. I walked ahead quickly, hoping she’d stop to process what I said — maybe stand there for a second, pretending to browse while secretly thinking about it. But no. She was still beside me, pushing the cart like nothing happened. Seriously, what build did God give you, huh? We reached the poetry section. Sydney’s eyes softened the moment she saw the shelves. She reached for a book titled The Gift of Everything and placed it in the cart like she was laying a newborn down to sleep. I couldn’t help smiling.

Rae was jumping in her seat with anticipation when I walked in the room. “I guess you found something then” I smirked. “Johnny this book I don’t understand what it is but it is full of acrostic poems but looking at this one particular poem, its layered with more secrets and hidden messages on top. All poems have hidden meanings that’s the basis of every poem but this book is so cleverly written. Look at this page the book and the amulet together- look here,” she showed me the page I had found with the book and Amulet on a stone plinth.

She asked as she opened the book – not understanding a word it says. “Poetry,” He answered. Faith raised her eyebrow and flip through the pages to learn, that it indeed was written in a way poetry is often printed. Something about the font suggested to her that it was handwritten. She couldn’t tell properly, but it was – then whoever wrote it had such beautiful and curvaceous handwriting. It makes her want to read it.

he asked without looking up. “What book are you reading?” Pollux turned the cover toward me, his brow raised slightly. I leaned in to read the worn title. *Venus and Adonis*. Shakespeare. Was he serious? “Shakespeare? Really?” I propped my chin up, suppressing a smile. “What’s wrong with that?” “Are you a poet or something?” I teased. “You don’t have to be a poet to read poetry,” he responded, his tone matter-of-fact. He had a point. You didn’t need to belong to something to appreciate it—just like how I didn’t have to be a wolf to love a werewolf. His words hit me deeper than they should have, awakening something inside me that I hadn’t fully acknowledged.

“Makes sense.” That surprised me a little. I expected a comment. Or judgment. Or that usual tone he used when he thought something was pointless but didn’t care enough to argue. Instead he just… accepted it. So I leaned into the conversation instead. “This book is actually good,” I said, tapping it lightly. “It’s mostly poetry centered on grief and memory and how people pretend they’re okay when they’re not.” His eyes flicked down to it again. “Sounds depressing.” “It’s not depressing,” I said immediately. “It’s emotional.”