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by Igor
Rated: E · Short Story · Drama · #2114534
If you are the ocean, I am the sun, which reflects on your vast surface every morning
If you are the ocean, I am the sun, which reflects on your vast surface every morning and plunges into you every evening. People say that the sun hides behind the horizon, but it’s not true. The ocean stretches beyond the horizon and catches the sun in its embrace.

If you are the tree, I am your shade, which attracts wayfarers to rest for a short time on a scorching day. In that moment you won’t feel lonely because you think that you are helping living creatures escape the heat. But I am also inseparable and silent part of you. Without me you cannot exist.

If you are the wind flying through a great and ancient castle, I am the echo singing in its infinite halls. People think that ghosts scare them during the nights - horribly howling in the dark corners. They are wrong, because there is nobody and nothing in that empty space except for you and me.

If you are the rain on a net of roads, I am the endless scattering of puddles. People try to protect themselves from you with umbrellas, but they cannot escape me. Together we convert our Universe into millions of steps made by soaked feet.

But the reality is that I am just a bottle of vodka and you are the ordinary dull alcoholic. Every morning you look at me with such temptation that I can’t resist opening the whole of me for another drink, and by every evening you are wasted, lying under the table like a piece of firewood.

You suck from my bottleneck without any tenderness, but I just want a little caress from you. You never kiss me; you never fondle me with your tired rough hands. Sometimes you blame me for making you the victim of my eternal and cruel crime. But it’s me who is the victim. I gave all of my life to you.

Sometimes you share me with your dirty friends like a hooker, but it is ok, I don’t mind. I can be whatever you want for you, because I love you that much!

You love me too. I know that. Although your love is strange and violent, I’ve got used to it. Love doesn’t exist without pain. Even when you throw me against the wall, you love me. I know it for sure.

Today you threw me against the wall again and now I am broken. My fragments lay on the floor like glass, reflecting the blue sky and its floating clouds. Oh, but it’s not the sky, it’s a greasy ceiling and the clouds are your cigarette smoke, slowly floating above my eyes. A drop of vodka drips from one of the fragments, but it’s not a drop; it’s a tear that contains the complete anguish of our complicated relationship. But don’t worry. Everything will be fine.
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