Some drabble I
hacked up for Mandi… once again. It had some sort of metaphorical
significance to futile determination that is destined to never be
satisfied, but I just hiccupped a little and got up to eat something.
I love you, Mandi.
I don't own things that have stuff to do with
this movie. Mrs. Lovett in the Broadway musical frightens me.
Her ingenious persistence bore evidence of countless heartfelt gestures and words entwined neatly upon a rusted platter, perhaps having once been a substitute for silver, which now struggled to bear the weight of her restlessness.
Where he paid no heed to her less than subtle allusions of their awaited duet beside the sea, she sniffed in a somewhat vague notion that she could try again their next crossing.
A knotted string for each attempt devastated the once expansive varnish of her vanity, each knot a reminder of each failure but also a somewhat crazed symbol of increasing determination for each loop her fingers fashioned.
The awareness of her obsession was distinct, for it was clear as a silver blade that her love would be the death of her. Whether short-lived or eternal, she twiddled her fingers in string and pie and body and blood to reach the break in the haze where her affection would be returned in more than another customer to skin.
When Sweeney Todd smiled, Mrs. Lovett would pretend that it was for she and not the liquid rubies he profited with.
Once realization settled upon her hazy conscience, that the smile was not hers to hold, she would fasten one more knot.
Just one more knot, Mr. Todd.