Malfoy's Moon

poem

Somehow she held the strings of that organ within his ribcage, playing them the way a violinist does,

with every touch, every look, every word, pressing the keys to his soul so fiercely it hurt to turn away, pained him to close her out. 

Although he tried. Yes, he tried, tried so hard it was agonizing. 

And her eyes. Eyes that held galaxies and clusters of divine nebula, eyes that held the key to the heavens, eyes that locked his stare and blurred every other detail. 

Eyes he'd studied so meticulously, he could differentiate every stream of cinnamon, every curve of honey, and every chain of mahogany, colors that surged into his heart, prickled his skin. 

Did she not know that rage fumed in his insides when anyone else had so much as held her gaze for more than a second? 

Did she not know how her own hands meant much more to him than the ones of a clock? That all he craved for was to wrap his arms around her and hold her until time itself wept with envy. 

But he also wanted to release her, let her go because he was aware, so painfully aware that his heartbeat was not deserving of her, his eyes not deserving of hers.

But he was blinded. Blinded by pain and love; although by now, they seemed to have blurred into the same thing. 

Sometimes, he reveled in the thought that she had nearly cursed him without hesitation, that day on the train; knew he deserved it,

yet, it wasn't enough, didn't fully satisfy him for the all pain he'd given her throughout their years.

He sometimes considered this infatuation was just that; simply love-struck by someone who had given him warmth,

but that warmth was not like the type he'd feel laying under the sun's rays; it was more like the warmth he'd feel under the moon's light.

Maybe this was why he was so enraptured by it, so utterly enthralled by her. 

Was she unaware that her tears, streaming down her angelic skin, were ruby red,

bleeding straight from his own heart.

He queried, pondered, wondered how she had cascaded into his Pluto-heart, cold and grey like a brewing storm. 

If he thought about it hard enough, it all seemed to fade away into the deep crevices of his mind and he wondered, 

wondered if he had just imagined it all. 

a/n: here's a small poem i randomly made up sorry if it's cringe haha

also, the story doesn't end here! i've decided to add a couple chapters to lead to a more final ending so look out for those soon <3