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Language:
English
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Published:
2024-03-18
Updated:
2024-03-28
Words:
1,392
Chapters:
5/?
Comments:
13
Kudos:
19
Bookmarks:
2
Hits:
159

Letters to Revachol

Summary:

The bleeding ink at the bottom of a desk in the 41st Precinct collects upon the lettered stacks of paper. Prose and poetry; limericks and larceny: Childhood dreams and aspirations sneakily pecked onto typewriter paper and hastily stashed away. Here, it is safe.

This is your desk, Harry. Welcome home.

Chapter 5 - The Fumbled Phoenix

Chapter 1: To Make Them Leave

Summary:

They are too attached to you. They are at your hip. They would hurt if you were to die.

So. Harry. Here is what you're going to do...

Notes:

Hey.

I like the idea of Harry still writing poetry and/or prose even though he himself never became a poet. Call it a hobby, if you'd like.

Some of these poems will probably corroborate with the narrative of A Toast to the Pigs, which is really just a what-if scenario of "What if Harry didn't lose his memory and still had to solve the Martinaise case?" Most of what's here could probably apply more broadly, though. This is all for fun. We're here to have fun. That's what fandom's all about.

I don't know why I feel so shy about posting this.

Chapter Text

Sip the rum,
Sweetest wine,
The vast emptiness in you.
Numb the heart,
Grasp your soul,
Choke it out for all it's due.

Clench your fist,
Wear your grin,
Throw your hands to be disgraced.
Bare your teeth,
Gleaming eyes,
Your reputation's been defaced.

Break their hearts.
Break your own.
Break them by your shaking hand.
Watch them leave:
Let them go.
You love them far too much to stand.

Sip the rum,
Tequila Sun:
Party hard and party fast.
Wear the face.
Bear it well.
Enjoy it now, for it's your last.