For Camp Potter Week 2- Arts & Crafts
Prompts: Scattered, butterfly wings, crescendo
Word Count: 205
Overheard
on a creaky stair
of the shadiest bar in town:
…A great power born
as the seventh month dies…
But little do you know,
little do you care.
So flap your butterfly wings,
set everything in motion,
and watch it all come crumbling down
in a whirlwind of phoenix feathers and headstones
and I'm sorrys
and wondering but never knowing if there was some version of this story
where she could have loved you.
or at the very least
where you weren't the villain.
Maybe if you'd tried harder.
Maybe if you'd kept your mouth shut.
(You never do know when to shut up, do you, Sev?
Father always said so and his belt knew just what to say.)
And while the shooting stars are released from their hold in the sky
and scattered across the vast expanse
there is hope for you yet.
There is hope for the best of even you.
Let it not be said that magic could be beaten out of you,
even while you swear that no one can ever know.
But the crescendo of your heartbeat threatens
to not go unheard.
It will sing a steady tune of defiance and purpose
of grief and regret.
And Lily.
Always.