A sudden reminder

"My warrior woman. My Valkyrie. You'll always be mine, always and never. Never. The Fire, baby. It'll burn us both. It'll kill us both. there's no place in this world for our kind of fire. Always and never. If I have to die for you tonight, I will." From Robert Rodriguez' SIN CITY, as told by [Clive Owen] to his Valkyrie - [Rosario Dawson].

Prose. For my bolder friend. Who in the end was not so bold, after all. Perhaps. (Like - what's the point in taking chances, when one cannot live up to expectations of results?)
By Scaramouche, the po(t)et. Longs for things she didn't even realize she would know what was.

It's in the smaller details. He made a smile come onto any face, and mine too. I still can see, when eyelids closed, I still can feel when body's numb, I sense when music's blue. That's the trick - and that's the curse. Who's the prick, who stole your purse, or something of more value, love, or something greater, won't go above. You might claim - no! - but then it is for show. Whichever lane you're driving down, whichever room you call your own, whichever door you think you closed, whichever window opened, almost. Talking less, for talk won't bless. Whichever tear you never shed, for whomever was abandoned, or whomever left, they're now as good as dead.

"And - you'll find your Queen at the end of the road, next to the statue of a broken heart. Carved in the stone of long-lost affections. Memories - they do shape beauty, if you can only believe it. The search might lead you there, but it may also lead you astray. Thus; sometimes, the closer it is, the better it may get! Just make sure you never get lost, people won't necessarily be there to catch you if you fall. Though if I could, I would've tried. I promise. But I was always so afraid of the dark. And looking out, to you, never made me secure. The way a Memory should feel. I only wished we could've made more - together. The thoughts, of what could've been so very nice. It's in the past, the whole is in the past, and such will die. With new promises, you establish, leftovers cease to exist. At least that's what they say. Or said. The tables turn. The mornings come. Your Queen may sooner than you think be gone. And vanished, up in smoke, for all eternity."

Bonne nuit.