Dear Fred,
Every time I look in the mirror,
the floorboards quake
beneath my feet.
Maybe it's the storm inside me;
the shriveled seed of misery
that grows with every passing day.
I miss you, Fred.
I miss you.I touch the surface of my stony reflection.
It's like inhaling the tundra.
Every time I look into my cobweb eyes,
I see you hiding behind
my glass-shattered irises.
It's like the world is mocking me
and the pain is tearing me to bits.
I see you within me, and it hurts so bad,
like I've been Splinched, and half the fragments
are strewn in the Sahara.
You could Crucio me, and it would hurt less
than this pain I feel every day.
Why does it hurt, Fred?
Just tell me why it hurts.Love,
George.
~
I can't laugh anymore, Fred.
I don't know why.
I tried laughing today, but it didn't work.
I ended up crying instead.
I feel like a waterfall: an empty, opaque slate.
I learned today that the glass is never half-full.
And it is not filled with lemonade,
but with a bitter poison.
It's your funeral today, Fred,
and I feel dead inside.I touch the gaping hole by the side of my head,
and every time I always think of you.
You said my ear had died, don't you remember?
And I joked that it had gone to heaven.
Are you in heaven, Fred?
Can you call to me from there?
I'm an avalanche, I tell you.
I've been writing letters to you,
And it hurts to know that you'll never read them.
You'd have laughed at the thought
of writing letters to your own twin.
"'Til death we shalt not part," you said,
in your melodramatic fits.
Why were we so stupid, Fred?
Death couldn't have come faster.
It doesn't just feel like your funeral, Fred.
It feels like mine too.
~
I had a son yesterday, Gred.
I named him after you.
Remember how we talked about getting married?
It seems strange now, doesn't it?
But I see the pink blob with fiery hair
and I'm reminded of you.
The wheel is turning, Fred, and I want you to know
that you died for the right thing.
You died happy, I guess, and that's what matters.
I hope my son'll be like you, you prat.
I hope he'll be like you.
Always yours,
Forge.
