And Nothing Lasts Forever

She hated him. She loved him.

So many years ago, he had left. She wanted to hold him everyday. In the mornings, he wasn't there, laying beside her with his massive clawed paw on her slender shoulder.

That tiger was beautiful. He was the pinnacle of everything she had ever wanted, everything that she had craved both consciously and not. The shade of orange in his fur, mingled perfectly with the black. 

Hadn't he understood that she would have done anything for him? That she still would? He was all she had ever wanted, all that she had ever needed. 

Yet he had left her alone, and broken. Every night, he was there, in her dreams. Every day, her pillow was newly soaked with salty tears. Every morning, she cleaned her muzzle of the ragged fur caused by sweat, tears and tossing. Washed it, brushed it soft again. Unpressed her whiskers from her cheeks and looked at herself in the mirror. She wondered what he hadn't wanted.

She'd look up and down her lithe body. Her eye would trace her permanent tear stains that his rough thumbpads had run so many times. It would wander to her long back and her spots that stretched and smeared like streaks of paint into stripes down to her tail and melted away into her blue fur. She would slowly spread her toes and look at the lines of her legs, the elegant curve of her hipbone pushing gently against the skin. Her tail would flick occasionally until she'd reach out with her small paws and take hold of it, preening it carefully while staring at her reflection in the full-length mirror. Her black head fur came down around the sides of her heard, accenting the shape beautifully. 

Others had told her dozens of times she was beautiful. She had kissed them, she had caved to their will subserviently, let them ravish her body however they felt. Some had been careful and caressed her, some had been violent and beat her. 

She hadn't loved any of them. Not even truly enjoyed the relationships when all was said and done.

He had never called her beautiful, never treated her as much more than a toy for his pleasure and, for some reason she could not explain as anything other than love, she had never had a more fulfilling relationship. He had surprised her now and then, coming home with a stuffed animal to add to the collection she had kept. A small lizard here, a tiny pocket teddy there. Nothing big, it wouldn't do. 

The largest surprise he had ever given her, it was the one that hurt her the most. He had given her a beautiful goodbye. 

These mornings, when she finished readying herself to walk the empty streets, she wondered 'Do you ever think of you and I? And that beautiful goodbye?'

~*~

'[these] empty streets' and 'Do you ever think of you and I? And that beautiful goodbye?' are copyrighted to Amanda Marshall. She's the chickie who sang that ever so pretty song 'Beautiful Goodbye'. Title also part of that song.

The blue kitty with the cheetah tear stripes and King cheetah back markings is copyrighted to me. It is my personal fursona. Don't touch it. (Unless you'd like to write to me and ask me permission. I might just let you borrow me for a bit. ^-^)