A/N: This is dedicated, with much love, and a hope to be friends for long
into the future, to Kat. So much for The Snape Effect!
Cupid's Bow
On Friday the thirteenth of February, the war against Voldemort was finally over. It had been a terrible victory, more were lost than saved, and the few survivors were too bruised and wounded to celebrate. Today, my mind is clouded by the events of the past, those stolen, and those sacrificed. I cannot sleep, I believe that I never will; this is of little consequence.
I move through the bright-lit room, passing row upon row of beds covered by white sheets. Their purity mocks my dirtied soul. Through a crack in the curtains, pulled across the tall windows in the parody of respect, I see those who are strongest digging, their backs strained against the hail and wind which god sends down upon us in this hour of need. They will not be able to bury the past.
I want to take a final look. I want to paint a portrait and store it forever in the gallery of my mind's eye, one last look at the face which gave me life when envious Fate killed the love for whose every drop of blood I would have pawned my heart.
I pull back the sheet. You look peaceful. Even though I know that it is futile, I lose myself in thoughts of what could have been. It's Valentine's Day today, I whisper. I know you understand; you always did.
I just wish that I had kissed you when I had had the chance. I couldn't now, not when you're like this. I remember last year, when the thought of the Great War was still just a looming shadow and we were able to spend time together in the quiet confines of your room. I remember the bitter smell of your Cherokee cigarettes, the sound of the crackling fire spitting blue and orange, the after-taste of old whiskey in my mouth. There were some cards from your house on the mantelpiece, satin pink and hopeful.
The look in your eyes as you squinted through the dim light at me was as if you saw for the first time. Most of all, I remember the feel of your fingers gripped on my knee as you leaned in towards me and I felt the warmth of your breath on my parted lips. I moved away. Too fast, I protested.
Now I know that we couldn't have moved fast enough.
I was cautious then, I didn't want our relationship to be fleeting, I felt too much for you to give in. I thought we had all the time in the world, and so I held you at a distance. I should have known that you can't cheat fate. I should have taken what you offered. Now I have time enough.
Your eyes are closed, I imagine that you can see me. We are alone, and I imagine us back in our place, the spot of worn grass by the lake, where we sat for hours on end as the days drifted past. We didn't notice, then, the slow drip of our lives passing. I long to hear your voice, just one more word from those perfect lips. Oh, if only, if only.it is foolish to hope but I still do. I hope that one day, maybe sooner than you expect, we will meet again. I will be able to take your hand, lead you past the grey of this life towards the pathway that leads to my light. Come back to me?
Would you, if you could?
Today is Valentine's Day. I haven't forgotten, have you? Death has become the lover which you would have had me as one year ago today. I never thought that I would envy Him. It's strange because it feels like I'm falling, and it's familiar because it's the same way I felt last year, although then I didn't know what it meant. This time it's different, the warm fuzzy feeling has been replaced by the stench left by Death's hand and I know that when I reach the ground you will be just out of reach. You won't be able to catch me and I will fall.
I am tempted to brush your pale skin with the tips of my fingers, let them engulf you as they would like to, but the chill left by your departure will be too strong for me to bear, it will only confirm your absence and that I cannot abide. Our past becomes the memories of my future which I cut and paste into the way it should have been. Will you wait for me, around the corner where the darkness ends?
You always used to say that tragedy would never be far behind us. I never believed you of course, but you proved me wrong. Too much happiness tempts the fates, you said. Your fruit was too enticing and now I am rotten to the core.
This time one year ago today, you took my hand and the pleasure of palm to palm contact was almost too much for me to stand. I had not known that I wanted you until I felt you mould to my skin, and when I wriggled free I felt I would never be whole again. I have lost far more than a holy palmers' kiss.
I wonder how many lovers will steal kisses today, the number must be beyond comprehension. Warm smiles shared over champagne breakfasts, tokens of affection exchanged, forgotten flames rekindled, new loves set aflame. I smile at the grim line of your mouth and try with thoughts to warm you.
Cupid threads an arrow to his bow and takes aim at my heart. He never misses, but what is there left for me without you? I look for something else but do not want to find it. I remove the poisoned dart from my chest and cast it with your ashes into the fire that was our friendship.
I whisper into the empty shell of your ear; Happy Valentine's Day, my love. My salted tears cannot wake you from this slumber.
*The quote from Tis Pity is '.for whose every drop of blood I would have pawned my heart.'
Cupid's Bow
On Friday the thirteenth of February, the war against Voldemort was finally over. It had been a terrible victory, more were lost than saved, and the few survivors were too bruised and wounded to celebrate. Today, my mind is clouded by the events of the past, those stolen, and those sacrificed. I cannot sleep, I believe that I never will; this is of little consequence.
I move through the bright-lit room, passing row upon row of beds covered by white sheets. Their purity mocks my dirtied soul. Through a crack in the curtains, pulled across the tall windows in the parody of respect, I see those who are strongest digging, their backs strained against the hail and wind which god sends down upon us in this hour of need. They will not be able to bury the past.
I want to take a final look. I want to paint a portrait and store it forever in the gallery of my mind's eye, one last look at the face which gave me life when envious Fate killed the love for whose every drop of blood I would have pawned my heart.
I pull back the sheet. You look peaceful. Even though I know that it is futile, I lose myself in thoughts of what could have been. It's Valentine's Day today, I whisper. I know you understand; you always did.
I just wish that I had kissed you when I had had the chance. I couldn't now, not when you're like this. I remember last year, when the thought of the Great War was still just a looming shadow and we were able to spend time together in the quiet confines of your room. I remember the bitter smell of your Cherokee cigarettes, the sound of the crackling fire spitting blue and orange, the after-taste of old whiskey in my mouth. There were some cards from your house on the mantelpiece, satin pink and hopeful.
The look in your eyes as you squinted through the dim light at me was as if you saw for the first time. Most of all, I remember the feel of your fingers gripped on my knee as you leaned in towards me and I felt the warmth of your breath on my parted lips. I moved away. Too fast, I protested.
Now I know that we couldn't have moved fast enough.
I was cautious then, I didn't want our relationship to be fleeting, I felt too much for you to give in. I thought we had all the time in the world, and so I held you at a distance. I should have known that you can't cheat fate. I should have taken what you offered. Now I have time enough.
Your eyes are closed, I imagine that you can see me. We are alone, and I imagine us back in our place, the spot of worn grass by the lake, where we sat for hours on end as the days drifted past. We didn't notice, then, the slow drip of our lives passing. I long to hear your voice, just one more word from those perfect lips. Oh, if only, if only.it is foolish to hope but I still do. I hope that one day, maybe sooner than you expect, we will meet again. I will be able to take your hand, lead you past the grey of this life towards the pathway that leads to my light. Come back to me?
Would you, if you could?
Today is Valentine's Day. I haven't forgotten, have you? Death has become the lover which you would have had me as one year ago today. I never thought that I would envy Him. It's strange because it feels like I'm falling, and it's familiar because it's the same way I felt last year, although then I didn't know what it meant. This time it's different, the warm fuzzy feeling has been replaced by the stench left by Death's hand and I know that when I reach the ground you will be just out of reach. You won't be able to catch me and I will fall.
I am tempted to brush your pale skin with the tips of my fingers, let them engulf you as they would like to, but the chill left by your departure will be too strong for me to bear, it will only confirm your absence and that I cannot abide. Our past becomes the memories of my future which I cut and paste into the way it should have been. Will you wait for me, around the corner where the darkness ends?
You always used to say that tragedy would never be far behind us. I never believed you of course, but you proved me wrong. Too much happiness tempts the fates, you said. Your fruit was too enticing and now I am rotten to the core.
This time one year ago today, you took my hand and the pleasure of palm to palm contact was almost too much for me to stand. I had not known that I wanted you until I felt you mould to my skin, and when I wriggled free I felt I would never be whole again. I have lost far more than a holy palmers' kiss.
I wonder how many lovers will steal kisses today, the number must be beyond comprehension. Warm smiles shared over champagne breakfasts, tokens of affection exchanged, forgotten flames rekindled, new loves set aflame. I smile at the grim line of your mouth and try with thoughts to warm you.
Cupid threads an arrow to his bow and takes aim at my heart. He never misses, but what is there left for me without you? I look for something else but do not want to find it. I remove the poisoned dart from my chest and cast it with your ashes into the fire that was our friendship.
I whisper into the empty shell of your ear; Happy Valentine's Day, my love. My salted tears cannot wake you from this slumber.
*The quote from Tis Pity is '.for whose every drop of blood I would have pawned my heart.'
