There’s a picture of you and me.
That I’ve made up, that you can’t see.
My picture seems worthless, and without a frame.
It’s cracked and worn though I feel no shame.
I hold it to my heart, feeling its warmth.
Yet at the same time it’s cold in its form.
It’s iced on the edges, making it rough.
The sun tries to melt it, but it isn’t enough.
It’s not enough to melt through the frost.
I realize now what I have lost.
Letting go of my picture, it falls to the floor
Shattering in pieces of a thousand or more.
So frozen cold with my doubts and fears
Not seeing it before, it had not been clear.
We can’t be together, it’s too much to ask
The picture of us is now in the past.
--Remus
Diary of a Thousand Heartaches by Seline Black
Chapter Notes: To Tonks while in the Order