And my pulse is thrumming, desperate, frantic, caged-bird breaking its wings, its neck, its heart at my ears, my neck, my fingertips, urging me on, crying to me, praying, all the prayers and pleas there ever were, all madness and desperation and frevrent hope.
There must be something.
My fingers, still frozen from the dark, fumbling at my body. A belt? A belt.
I don't think I could have undone it this fast for Thumper, not for all my yesterdays, all this, light glinting on the buckle, one merry jangle as I toss, a thread, an umbilical cord, ball of twine to find my way back home. Our way. Our way or none.
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timeasmymeasure
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Date: 2007-01-20 07:52 am (UTC)There must be something.
My fingers, still frozen from the dark, fumbling at my body. A belt? A belt.
I don't think I could have undone it this fast for Thumper, not for all my yesterdays, all this, light glinting on the buckle, one merry jangle as I toss, a thread, an umbilical cord, ball of twine to find my way back home. Our way. Our way or none.
It is this, or no more mirrors anymore.