Damaged Goods


A mocking caress, intimately whispered,

In silence, in light.

What truth? My own. His education.

Teacher, student, cruelly juxtaposed,

Into this sham of study.

Learnèd little, but yet enough,

To understand his method.

Isolate, manipulate. Submitted I thereto

And to this day believe.

No love for I, but useful yet,

In ways silently screamed.

Naught but flesh, no mind within.

'Tis what he made of me.



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Third of January, two thousand and five.
Here, Hermione speaks for both of us. This was one of my most painful pieces ever.