I looked up to meet his eyes..his eyes. The eyes that always said he cared. He loved. The eyes that showed affection to the extent that they made me believe I was ‘safe’, ‘safe’ from the callous world outside that had always wanted me to dice into pieces, ‘safe’ from all the things that I believed shouldn’t happen to me, ‘safe’ from all the misdeeds, and misgivings, the world had to offer. But no, his eyes didn’t show me all this, not even for a second. No, these couldn’t be his eyes. There was rage, fiery in its way; there was fire, burning me deep inside; and there was apprehension, of perhaps, how I would react. React?? I didn’t really know how to!! The only thing I knew was that I had failed him somehow, disappointed him at some point, and that I had, for once, made him change the color of his eyes. I tried to speak, but his eyes held me. Tears came flowing down my cheek; his eyes didn’t seem to notice. I tried to touch him, for I always believed that touch had the power that words could never transmit. I tried hard to raise my hand, but his eyes held me. I wanted to comfort him, feel his hair, a soft kiss there; I wished he would comfort me, take me in his arms, whisper something in my ears. Instead, he violently budged me, as if he wanted me to open my eyes. He shouted, and I whispered; ‘I am right here, right here beside you’. He didn’t notice. He hugged my corpse, and let his tears find the way through my dead hair to my face and lips. Again, the color of his eyes changed. They now showed pain, anguish, sorrow and emptiness. Emptiness, because my being had made him complete; and now that I was no more he was empty.
He couldn’t save me. And I failed him by submitting to death.
Gods came upto me, and told me to ensue, but, his eyes; his eyes held me.
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