i don't own these characters. they are j.k. rowling's. i can only dream of making characters like hers.

The Taste of Tears

I can feel you,

You're falling.

Quietly and slowly, the worst way to fall.

There's a chance that someone could catch you, but they don't. The only thing you see is the people who ignore you in your time of need.

No one can see you or hear you.

No one notices.

No one but me. I always notice.

Always.

Even when I'm not watching.

People expect you to be strong, but you're as weak as the rest of us. You have nightmares, you fail tests, you cry, you bleed, you scream. You're nothing special.

You slip again.

You slip often, teetering between the boundaries of invisibility and solid lines. You haven't plummeted yet, but it will happen. It will happen if you slip enough. And believe me, one day you will.

"I don't need anyone." You tell me. That's the understatement of the year. You need me more than you will ever know. And in some ways, I need you.

I watch the tears fall down your face and die in your mouth, and there it is again: the familiar salty taste that you are so used to by now. The taste of tears.

I see you cry. No one else does, which makes them think you are indestructible.

You want someone to pay attention to who you are, and what you feel. You want the eyes to see something other than the scar.

I see you, though. I don't look at the lightning bolt splashed across your forehead. But of course you will never know this. You will only continue to see me far away, standing behind the crowd that covers you. Always observing. Always.

I am not meant to be a part of you. No one is supposed to see your soft side. And because you won't let me, no one ever will.

Even your friends don't know the real you. They are intimidated by you and everything you have done. You know this, but you ignore it. You continue to live in your imaginary world where people treat you like everyone else. Ignorance is bliss.

They never sit down to have a chat with you. Not a real one at least. Never about what you think, it's always school affairs and Quidditch games. Nothing serious passes through the air between your words when you are around them. And you know now all too well that sunshine can burn if you get too much of it.

I wonder if you cry at night when you should be sleeping. I'm sure you do. I imagine the teardrops trickling down the side of your face and running into your ears.

I often sit awake in my bed wondering. I think about a lot of things, but most of the time my thoughts drift to you. I wonder if you are all right. I wonder if you will ever be okay.

But no one is really okay. Wounds the heart makes scar us all.

I see you outside one afternoon. Grey clouds collect overhead and it starts to rain. You hold your hands out and catch it. The drops pool in your cupped hands.

You are smiling. The only time you really smile out of happiness is when you are alone.

I watch from inside and I feel the tears fall down my face and die in my mouth. And there it is again. The familiar salty taste that I am so used to by now: the taste of tears.

END

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i was listening to alanis morisette's "you learn" when i wrote this. i used a couple of her lyrics.

yes, no, maybe so? tell me what you thought. reviews are greatly appreciated. thanks for reading my work.