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Array
(
[sid] => 35051
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Through a Battered Viewfinder, Revised
[time] => 2004-02-15 03:02:44
[hometext] => Changed a lot, and, in my opinion, much improved.
[bodytext] => with practiced ease, she deftly conceals the touch of reluctance in her not-quite-casual stride as she makes her way to the cliff's perilous edge eyes only for a video-camera she watches with widened eyes fixated, and spellbound replaying cached memories like soap opera reruns through an ancient viewfinder with fogged-up glass and dented metal early edition, and thusly unable to capture the laughter and tears the day they met flickers for the thousandth time onto the screen black-and-white version, of course, static-y with long-suppressed emotion which she smiles a smile to match tears she'd never admit were shed further smear the glass blurring a world that she had thought was already blurred as could be she walks to the tip of the cliff watching through the lens with hungered and feverish eyes she fast-forwards through the strife she’d seen it oft enough before replaying her favorite kiss (the first) till she has to squint to see harshly, she forces herself out her reverie and hisses in a whisper hoarse, "better to have never loved than loved and lost like this." liking its sound, she repeats the phrase again and again till the meaning is lost knowing too well that memory, sadly unlike lightning, can strike again and again and again obliterating a little every time. without measures taken, one day a bolt will strike, for the billionth time, and find nothing left to sizzle reminding herself that she'll not let this happen, she forces conviction into her step the edge of the cliff draws nearer and with a ragged breath, she flies and then-- the wind tangles her hair and is all around and the world is nothing but wind and terror and wind and falling falling falling FALLING and wind and all she can see is stern rock faces surrounding her and it’s down down down down down and there’s nothing no past no future only NOW and now is terrifying and what’s going to happen and the wind makes her shut her eyes tightly as it stings her face and she’s flying only a twisted perversion of flying filled with terror and she can’t think and it’s a blessing for she dares not think and the ground draws nearer nearer nearer and Death beckons at the bottom and it’s almost over but the video-camera no no no no NO can’t let it hit and the ground is inches away and she twists in Herculanean effort to hold the camera aloft and now it’s safe and she can finally just-- and then she was gone. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 199 [topic] => 22 [informant] => ShadowDaughter [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 10 [ratings] => 2 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => LostLove )
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