King of Hearts

Sometimes I just can't believe the undeniably huge mistakes you make.

Maybe, just maybe, you'll learn that you're not only ruining your life, but mine as well. I hope that someday you'll kick your self and apologize over and over for what you've done. For what you always do.

I dream of a day when all the pieces will fit together and you'll be like you were before all of this. Before your heart went cold. Before you made yourself an iron fist of anger and hate. Before every step you took was the toll of the living dead. Before you had nothing to live for.

They still whisper to you. You tell me that stopped a long time ago, but I know better. You toss and turn in fitful sleep and you answer them. You tell them things you would never tell me.

Where did you run to? For it must be so very far away.

Are you lying, dejected and lonely, among your cocoon of white sheets, within my sight and there with me? Or are you wrestling with yourself in the dark caverns of a life you left behind, locked far away from the people who still care about you?

I still care about you, you know. You were the King of Hearts. The savior of the entire Wizarding World. The Chosen One...The Boy Who Lived. There are thousands of books that tell of you and people raise their children on stories of your triumph. Hell, they might as well have slapped a crown of thorns on you and called you fucking Jesus.

But after all the things you've put me through, all the pain and suffering and lies, I still want you back here. Back with the living.

Oh yes, your chest rises and falls in steady breathing patterns. Your heart still beats in its misery. But you're not really alive. You talk and blink and even let slip a smile once or twice. But you're not really there. Not to me.

Your dead inside and it's killing me.

And now here I am beside myself again. I'm angry with you for leaving me all alone here in this world of hardened hearts and intimate dances with death. I'm torn apart by the things you've done and said. More than once I have thought of locking myself up like you do. Licking at my wounds and lashing out fierce words when someone tries to pull me back into the light. But one look at you and I know I must be strong. One look at you and I feel like crying.

But I can't, because I'm your rock whether you like it or not. When you decide to come to me I'll be there. I'll be your automatic joy and you'll always be my sadness. That's the way it's always been. Some things can never change.

After all we've done and seen, after all we've made it through...I know that we're falling apart.

I've forgiven you. I still care about you. I've cleared the way for your revival. The day you wake up and start living. The day you apologize for everything you've done and I can forgive you to your face. Then I can release a long pent up sigh of relief and tell everyone that I knew things would turn out fine eventually...

Can you feel my tears against your pallid skin?

Do you know what it feels like to come to the end of the line, the last of your dwindling hopes, and know that your whole world is coming to an end?

Do you know the sensations of complete hopelessness so deep it leaves scars?

Of course not. You never feel anymore.

I came by today, just like everyday. Hoping today will be The Day. But it never is now is it? I just keep dreaming big dreams and living in regret.

You're just staring off into space again. I can never reach you at times like this. You are silent as the grave as I slip my hand into yours. I grasp your hand and you don't even look like you notice. Unwanted tears prick at the corners of my eyes.

Taking a daring chance, I lay my head gently upon our interlocked hands. You pull violently away, just like I knew you would. Save the tears, I tell myself. I know they won't do me any good.

For soon you'll be asleep against the window. Just like always.

You said you like to hear the rain sometimes.