Bronze-and-Blue

Bronze-and-Blue

On the day I turned eleven, I never got my acceptance letter.

Was this a punishment,

for when I was seven, and I scratched my brother’s arm so hard he still has scars?

White half moons, forever skin deep really justify a letter never sent?

He told me Hogwarts wasn’t real,

I called him a liar, and I swore I would always believe in magic.

Now I am seventeen,

And it’s a promise I still keep.

Because it’s real for me, and I won’t give it up.

They say you can always go home,

And my home lives on in a book.

That lightning scar represents so much more,

Than that little boy locked under the stairs.

They say revenge is a dish best served cold, and goddamn it, I am freezing.

I know in my heart, where I truly belong.

I should be wearing a blue-and-bronze sweater,

Homemade with my first initial proudly worked on to the front.

I belong in a place, where magic is real and I don’t have to deal

With these stupid people, and their stupid limitations.

I belong in the library, one so big I can learn everything I’ve ever dreamed of, and

Eight am breakfasts in the great hall, owls swooping by overhead.

Butterbeer in cup and a wand in my hand,

Bronze-and-Blue house tie loose around my neck.

Goddamn it,

I want every stupid childhood dream made in the sunshine with laughter,

every hushed prayer I ever repeated knelt by the foot of my bed ‘till it became a mantra,

every wish I made desperately, face glowing from the flames of ill fated birthday candles

To come true.