Dear Draco,
You cough and I can't help but turn my head.
It's really an awful sound when your cheeks are pale
When your face is gaunt
When your eyes are full of self-pity
When my heart aches for you
Your lips are chapped and faded
She had a phone call from your aunt today
She asked her to pick up your things
To take them to your bed
So you could see them… one last time…
When you look so weak
When you act so fragile
I can't bear to listen to your broken voice
And the rattle of your lungs when you breathe
It makes me sick inside to know that… you won't be here tomorrow
I can't cry
I can't die
I can't feel anything but pain
When I look at you it hurts
My eyes see your pain
You don't even know who this from.
You won't know until you finish.
This hurts me worse than it hurts you, Draco Malfoy.
The only thing I want is to make amends…
But that will never happen.
You'll die hating everything about me.
You'll die with me loving everything about you.
So I wrote you this haphazard poem.
It doesn't rhyme.
It doesn't make sense.
It doesn't even say what I mean it to.
But here you go.
Splutter your last breath onto this sturdy piece of paper
Its stronger than you.
Love you,
Harry Potter.