A poem based on another poem i wrote based on ANOTHER poem by matthew dickman

Remorse- after Matthew Dickman

When remorse comes to you as Lord Voldemort,

You must invite him inside your home.

You steel your nerves as the long, purple shadows drag

Across the dimming pink sky

You wrap the blanket from

Your bed around you,

Settling on the couch

With a mug of tea.

He sits in the metal chair farthest from the fire,

hard and cold

He tells you he's used to it,

Don't worry.

He begins to speak.

You must not be afraid of his voice,

Like a serpents morbid whisper

He tells you of his life

All he did wrong

How much he longed for the right

You drift over to the radio and turn up Clint Black,

Lord Voldemort pauses, listening for a moment.

He wishes he'd known

That there wasn't any time to kill,

That his payment was due, just like everyone else's

He tells you one last chapter.

Lord Voldemort whispers the tales of Lily and James, of

Little

Harry

Potter

He remembers the harsh green crystals

Shattering the perfect England sky.

He rises from his seat

Heads for the door.

He stops,

Turns.

He tells you to remember,

And I do. I remember the

Harsh words, the

Hard blows,

My first love,

My first scars,

My first heartbreak,

All because of that one man,

My best friend's brother.

Lord Voldemort walks through the door

Left open, warm breeze streaming in.

I bid him farewell. I watch as he leaves, once more

Tom

Marvolo

Riddle.

I smile to myself.

I hope he remembers, too.