The winter was unapologetic. The nights, even more so. As he sipped his favourite bourbon by the fireplace in the living room, he stared into nothingness, that was filled with his life. The smooth liquid burned his gut as it turned fiery. Poetic justice symbolizing his life, which begun just as smooth and turned absolutely as fiery.
The grip around the amber goblet inadvertently grew hard just like his heart. The yellow pillow that was his faithful bed mate, slowly had a growing red stain. That yellow pillow which was his faithful mate. His partner in sickness and health. In richness and poverty. Till death does him apart. They exchanged their vows when he got her out of a mad house. It was a punching bag. He fell in love with it and got her home. Since then, thru his time with his wife, the mating ritual, and the fights, the pillow gave him the solace.
He still looked at the patch that grew lighter but spread out even more. Just like his life. The cancer just spread out. The pain became unbearable. The stare hardened. He threw the shards of glass that remained into the whistling fire. He held the pillow. And wept into it. Like there was no tomorrow.
Along with his blood there were a pool of tears that the pillow absorbed. It was nothing new to her. She was used to it. This man needed a mate. A partner. Never a family. He wanted a fan. Not a friend. The pillow was eternally there for him. Plumping up when he needed a fat one. Flattening when he wanted a thin one. Took a shape when he wanted it between his legs. And struggled to breathe when he smothered it on his hard on. But the beauty of it all- is she chose to stay on.
He looked at the pillow in disgust and asked her in silence: Why didnt you leave me? The willows are weeping too. Why do you stay?
She stared at him. No answer. Only silence.
The willows howled even louder in the dreary darkness of the night. He asked her the question again.
Silence. Again.
There were unsaid words. Feelings that she had. She was after all a pillow with a heart. She was lost in her thoughts.
"There was a time when I didnt want to be between your legs. I couldnt bear the stink of the leftover pee. There was a time when I cringed when you beat me into shape. I couldnt bear the hurt.
There was a time when I wanted to be next to you, and not your wife. I couldnt bear the thought of sharing.
There was a time when I wanted to be cuddled. I couldnt bear the thought of not having your attention.
There was a time when my twin was a part of Us. I couldnt bear the thought of her dying.
There was a time when everything was gone. All that was left was you. I couldnt bear the thought of being lonely.
There was a time when I thought you would want to be with me. Out of desire. Out of choice. Out of lust. Out of love. Out of care. Out of passion. Out of happiness. Out of sadness. Out of the intent to share.
I couldnt ask you any of it, because I didnt want to ever think of me as an expectation.
There was a time I needed someone. You. Not like you. But you. I thought that day will come before I die. I saw hope.
Today, I die with your blood leaking the life out of me. As it oozed into me, it dragged all my life.
As the life fizzled, the only thought I had was, Damn, my friend, I wish we had the life I wanted. Atleast my expectations gave me happiness. You didnt even know what you wanted."
What a wasted life! The funeral happened in that hall. In the fireplace. With an epitaph that said, "life is full of expectations and hope. Live it up."- The weeping willow's partner- yellow pillow.
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