A/N: Here's some poorly flowing, terribly dark and uncomfortable poetry for you. Enjoy! -Sky.
Harry and Me
It's really is quite amazing to see,
The way that we talk, Harry and me.
The way that we shout and the way that we yell,
Over which one has suffered the much harder hell.
So it's out of the way, he says to me first;
'He murdered my parents, that's gotta be worse!'
But I scoff at this, and respond always this way;
'But how much do you know of that terrible day?'
And Harry falls silent, I thought that he might,
For all he remembers is 'lots of green light'.
But he rallies quite quickly and very well too,
'I remember Cedric, let me tell you!'
But I smirk and say; 'Come now, that's not fair,
'His death can't have hurt even though you were there.
'You loathed him for winning the girl of your dreams,
'I'm not saying you hated him, by any means!
'Yes, it did hurt you, to see him so hexed,
'But mine still is worse, so tell me, what's next?'
And Harry puts a finger thoughtfully to his chin,
Before shouting 'Sirius! Ha! I win!'
But I shake my head against his newest pain,
And lapse once again to this honest refrain.
'Miss him you must, and love him you did,
But please, just who are you trying to kid?
I know he was not at the end of his time,
But to you he was not bonded the same as was mine,
And please to not tell of Remus and his wife,
For though they are gone, their son still has life.'
And then Harry frowns and looks into himself,
(Dismissing as feeble his lament for the elf).
'How would you feel,' he finally says,
'To have been partly evil for all of your days?'
And I look to the ground, feeling suddenly cold,
As Harry, I think, is missing some soul.
Though it was not his, merely borrowed for years,
I think in some way, he thought it was his.
'Do you miss it?' I ask, what else can I say?
'Sometimes,' he admits, looking away.
He's shamed for missing the darkness he had,
Ashamed for feeling he should be half-bad.
But he gathers himself, and looks up at last,
'So, do I win then?' he finally asks.
'Not quite,' I reply, holding his gaze,
And then draw his eye to my prominent graze.
He laughs so hard he clutches his sides,
'An ear's hardly equal to a dozen lives!'
I narrow my eyes and grope at my scar,
'That's not what I said, not by very far.
'I simply wanted to show you the pain,
'That I'd willingly go through again and again.
'Take the other ear, and take both my lips!
'The legs that lay uselessly under my hips!
'My eyes, my nose, hell, take my whole head!
'All that you need to raise Fred from the dead!
'For nothing now seems it could make me laugh,
'Not since the day I was torn clean in half.'
And Harry feels beaten then, it is true,
And he raises his glass, and then I do, too.
'To our souls!' he toasts, lifting his hand.
'That were torn quite asunder and buried in sand!
'That were left to decay where they could make no sound,
'Murdered and buried six feet under ground!
'Let us mourn for the fact that we're no longer whole!
'Let us mourn for the fallen halves of our soul!
And we both drink our drinks to the ones that we knew,
Of this dance Harry and I have danced quite a few.
And this one has ended as the others before,
In a broken and morbid and definite draw.