Novel & Cerita The Poet X Quotes

Xander sat alone in his dimly lit apartment after the conversation with Dr. Lawrence, his hands trembling as he wheeled himself closer to the window. The city lights twinkled below like fragments of hope scattered across the dark. For years, he had drowned himself in alcohol and anger, convincing himself that he had been betrayed by life itself. But the doctor’s words echoed in his ears like an unrelenting bell: “If they come back, do you want them to return to a wreck of a man?”

"Why don't I make use of my big ass pool often?" Xavier unties his sneakers and begins to remove them. He also removes his socks before moving towards the pool and sitting beside Xander. He slowly puts his legs into the cold water and waits to adjust to the coldness before speaking, "This is ironic. You get drunk and me being the one coming back from work," Xander lets out a low laugh. Soon everywhere becomes silent only the sound of the waters as Xander and Xavier slowly move their legs in it. "If they were still alive, how do you think everything will be like?"

“Not of losing. Not of pain. But of the version of myself I might become if I let them turn me bitter.” Xander knelt beside me, reading over my shoulder. “You won’t become her,” he whispered. “You’re made of light, Emma. Even when they throw dirt, you shine.” I closed the journal. My hand found his. My belly between us, softly rising and falling. “Then let’s outshine them.” He kissed my forehead. “Together.”

“It does taste like shit.” “I am not angry she is a crow,” X finally said. “I am angry, I never got to protect you.” I scoffed. “Same thing Achilles said.” “He meant it,” X replied. “He walked into that auction house alone, with barely any weapons, scared as fuck, not for himself, but because of what they would have done to you,” Xiomar said. “You know, when he described how you looked, I thought he was joking,” he continued. I swallowed my spot, wetting my dry throat. “What did he say?”

I finished the last sip of my smoothie, tossed the empty cup to the ground, and rubbed my aching leg slowly. “Xavier is a monster,” I whispered to myself, my voice barely audible over the campus noise.

“It doesn’t change who he is.” “Maybe in your eyes, but I see a man that is a modern-day Jefferson or any other inventor from the past. People laughed at him and told him it wasn’t possible. A lesser man would have given up. A lesser man would have taken the harsh criticism to heart and let his dreams die. Xander didn’t give up. He pushed through and I’m so proud of him.” “You talk like he is some kind of hero,” he spat the words like they tasted bitter on his tongue.

I had gone there to read as I usually did, this was some time after refusing to be one with the Darkmoon pack but one with Xavier himself. I had gone to read that very day and like I said earlier, the arts got my attention that day. I came across a poem that I enjoyed greatly until I was interrupted by Lucas at a very crucial point in that poem. I still remember how it went if I am not mistaken, "A spark within you glows bright and true, A flame that flickers, waiting to break through. Don't let it fade, don't let it die, Let your inner spark burn, and reach for the sky.”