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A Love Letter for H. J. Potter

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“If I had a soul I sold it for pretty words”
—Allen Ginsberg

Dearest Harry,

Scratch that. I’ll not bore you with introductions, not after all this time. I’ll skip the niceties, I know I’m inclined to ramble some.

This is for you. My ‘pretty words’ as I think you’ve often asserted; or something to that effect.

I’m flattered, really, but also slightly affronted. See, I wasn’t even trying to be pretty. I can’t give you pretty, but I can give you honest, certainly. I can give you sincere.

I’m an open book, Harry. For you, at least...

By all means, read honest, read pretty, read devoted. Read whatever you like, and I’ll do as most poets do and say nothing.

Nothing but this.

-

The sour taste of the envelope as I seal it closed
Is always so apt.
It is bitter like dark chocolate
Like a note off key.
I’m always afraid I’ll cut my tongue on the leaf,
Slice it open and bleed into you
What is already yours.

I shake myself
Drizzle the wax
And stamp.
Our mouths crash together
Like waves.

The foolproof vest
My chest
Potter, I am packed full
Of protections
Delicate like a porcelain teacup
But so large and open and
Ready to take in
Hold up all your love.

I’ve always been hoping for you, Harry.

Oh how you always outbloomed me
As hard as I tried
As poised as I was, you always found a way to see through me
These letters I fashioned
The flowers were fake
My words were real
But I liked them
Because they never died on me.

Look at me.
Even now, I’m still writing.
Even now, I know you still read them.
Even when I’ve got you close to my chest.
A splinter that I never could dig out
Scratching words I never could speak
Into you.
All over you.

That’s where they go, you know.
Merlin knows, every single word, it tattoos you.
That ghastly scar
I must not tell lies
With every word of this
I know
I’ve written over it a million times.

Because Harry, you deserve the rehearsal
The planned and the perfected.
I’m a perfectionist and so I’m never satisfied.
You are like nothing I can express

I’ve been trying to find the right way to start.
Been trying to unstopper the cork
Like expensive champagne and fizzle out the lip
Fizzle all over you.

But it’s helpless.
My mouth flutters open and stops.
The rain beats a melody outside.

I remember you,
Yesterday.
How beautiful you looked in the rain,
The fat raindrops
That travelled down the nape of your neck
How they said things I never could.
I was so overcome,
The water rushed over the both of us
I held you
And that was enough.

I know I pick my flowers carefully
The things I want to say to you
And I wonder
Why I have this
Obssession with saying
With memorising every part of you.

Here’s violets to describe my gratitude
And red roses for everything else.

For when I held your letters up and breathed them in
There’s something of you in them
Something selfish and greedy
That I rather feel I’ve stolen when I write down the feeling of my lips against your neck.

And here’s the truth, Harry.
As flowers always do
I think I’m afraid, someday, you’ll outgrow me.

But it’s no matter.
Tonight is enough
Tomorrow,
Three weeks from
Now.
Every single day until then
It’s enough.

It’s blazing a storm outside now
And I know every beat of
Each branch
Approves of us, Harry.

I love you

I love you

I love you.

Yours, for as long as you’ll have me,

D. Malfoy

(P.S. I hope you enjoy today’s quote. Do me a favour and don’t ask me why it’s one line long. Merlin, whatever you do, don’t try and fathom the rest of it out. I’m sure your mind will go the exact same place as mine did. Truly, I’m a heathen...)