Pity the living- Slytherin boys (part 2)

Poetry

Mattheo's pov

"You're scribbling in that notebook of yours." I sit beside Alice in the great hall. It's Saturday and there is barely anyone here.

"I'm writing." She says.

"What about?" I ask her.

"Random things."

We sit in silence as she continues writing and I just stare at her doing so.

"Hey," she look at me, lifting her eyes from the paper, "I told Tom hello be the first person I'll show this, but, since he's not here, would you like me to read you a little?"

A smile goes up my lips. I have been wanting to read this for forever.

"Yes, I would very much like that."

She opens a random page in her notebook. Her eyes twinkle as she gets ready to reveal herself to me.

"And every moment you keep reading you're stubbed once again in the middle of your heart because you know in this case reality is too close to imagination."
It's beautiful.

"Ooh, I felt that." I smile.

"Yeah? Happened to you?" Her eyes sparkle as she looks at me.

"Too many times. Read me another."

She turns the page and begin reading.

"I've always liked being in pain. I think pain is a feeling that keeps me alive. While in pain, I can feel life to the fullest, both the good and the bad. When I'm in pain, I feel. Completely feel. I want trauma, I want pain, I want hurt, just as much as I want happiness, joy and love. Happiness, true happiness never comes with no trauma. And I think pain, always comes with joy, and joy always comes with pain. And love, love is hurtful, as much as it is amazing. Life is both suffering and joy. Both good and bad. And, when I say I like pain, that I want pain; all I say is that I like to live, that I want to live truly and completely, with every part of it."

It makes me sad. I don't even know what to say.

"Don't stop reading. Just read for me."

She nods her head, "'I feel tired constantly, like it's something imprinted in my head. But as much as the tiredness is imprinted in my head, so is the habit of my brain to begin talking the moment I get into bed.' Oh, this one I wrote for Tom: 'I look at his eyes, his purely green eyes, and suddenly, there is no more pain'.  Um... there is also this one: 'the skeleton in my closet, it wears dresses everyday. It switches between black, and blue, sometimes even pink, because it feels beautiful that way. The skeleton in my closet always wears dresses, because dresses is the only thing it can wear. It never gets out of the closet, because it knows no one would care."

My eyes widen, "that is the most beautiful thing I have ever heard."

She smiles lightly, a twinkle in her eyes. "Thank you."