Disclaimer: I'm looking through my possessions, but I can't find 'Harry Potter' anywhere.
My inspiration: Carol Ann Duffy's poem Adultery. The theme, pacing and certain descriptions in it inspired me to write this. I'm afraid I can't find it online, but if you want to read it, PM me.
Pairing: Oliver/Astoria, with credit to our resident mad hatters, mew-tsubaki and Morghen.
Thanks to: the splendiferous tat1312, who puts up with my first drafts and, as always, knows exactly how to hit nails on their heads.
Notes: I'm not exactly a fan of Duffy's work, but when I was idly flipping through one of my anthologies a few nights ago, I came across Adultery. Something about it suddenly struck me, and I knew I had to use it somehow... that somehow being in a freeverse. This is obviously my first attempt at freeverse, and I'm not sure if I even managed it. Ack. I'm scared...
Please view this at either 3/4 or 1/2 alignment. And please review afterwards, because if it's bad, I want to know.
x-x
Turn on your beautiful eyes.
.:.
See the handsome smile of this famous stranger: and
though the words: 'stranger danger': won't quite let you go
just do it, do it, do it
'til you've done it so much
you know:
to flicker them closed for only a moment -
- darkness -
then: back open when you leave the hotel room with the: flick
of a lightswitch, furtively
because this is the first time you've seen the world: without Draco
.in
years.
and: wide open eyes are a symbol of: guilt.
...
Turn on your beautiful eyes.
.:.
See the world tilt, see his hand on your thigh -
tilt away from you, world,
His broom-roughened
hands
your only
anchor
to this greasy, Muggle restaurant where no
one
will recognise you; though it's greasy enough they'll probably recognise the
paranoia
that anchors you to your chair; and the hand that anchors you there.
then another time back against the wall, faster
- fumbling -
- exploring -
- opening your eyes
yes, yes, yes!
hands can do so many things
just
watch.
...
Turn on your beautiful eyes.
.:.
See the white sheet against your cheek,
that hotel room's
soft pillows disguising how hard your heart is now, when
a new word from your son
fails to delight you as much as
.lies
and
lethal
nights.
bright lights after that sweet darkness
will only blind you;
so look away, and hope they do the same.
...
Turn on your beautiful eyes.
.:.
See your son's face fall when
you panic and shout at him that he can't go to the game,
that Puddlemere United are no good at all
even though you'd spent the afternoon
telling that other man in your life that
they are the best
you've ever seen.
and laugh it off, laugh it off, laugh it all off when
Draco asks you if you're alright
and you can't even look into his eyes.
and laugh it off, laugh it off, laugh it all off
when
he asks you why you've covered all the mirrors -
'cause you can hardly say it's so you don't have to
look
into your own eyes, can you?
and laugh it off
laugh it off
laugh it all off
with those laughing eyes they fell in love with:
your disguise.
...
Turn on your beautiful eyes.
.:.
See the crumbling wedding-cake,
the tell-tale clock putting a timer on your fiction
and your .lies
and thrilling nights.
See the crumbling wedding-cake and the shocked
guests at the wedding where the cake is bit-by-bit crumbling;
in your liar's dreams, still you
feel
- wait, do you feel here anymore? -
hear
your husband's unaware breathing in the
marital
bed.
You know all about beds yet here is one you cannot conquer -
a bed of thorns without the roses
accompanied by guilt's two chiming notes:
Draco's sleep-talking and your
choked-up silence when
he dreams he tells his father that he did marry for love
after all
you'd seen him as he was, once,
and you'd loved him, too.
...
Turn on your beautiful eyes.
.:.
See the hurt,
the script you've been following all along:
the stranger's silken web of silken sheets,
the husband's flowers dying, dying,
the son's gradual understanding
that Mummy means it when she says 'G o o d bye':
the truth,
the unravelling,
and the end.
See that thrown a w ay ring,
that moon shining too f ar away to comfort,
you.
Your family
your health
your wealth
your friends,
the one you lost it all for -
See them as they are:
more inconsistent than that moon
and even f u r t her away.
...
You're a tramp.
Everyone can see that now.
...
Close up your ugly eyes.
.:.
In your liar's dreams
this never happened;
and in those dreams it's -only
the -slicing of -innocent -onions
that can -scald you to -tears-.