The Pause

Standing on the edge of the cliff, I glance over my shoulder one time, and then hurl myself off the edge. As I fall freely through space, I ask – “Do you love me?” There is a pause, and then he asks “What do you mean?” But I can’t go on. The pause was all I needed. It was a moment of honest, in a time of confusion and pain. All the declarations of love, the discussions of him feeling differently about me than her, and the whispered “It has always been you,” while fumbling quickly to remove all clothes that hinder our touches, those mean nothing. As the wind tears at my clothes, my mind tumbles back over the last few months. The bitter tears of rejection and pain of heartbreak, where often blunted by the hope, dream, desire of his love, held out like a glittering prize. I hit the ground and sit up in shock. The fall has always seemed longer, the rocks at the bottom slash my skin. The fall has gradually gotten shorter and less painful. My moments of release are fewer and farther between. If only I could hide these moments from him. If only he was unaware of the heartache that I still feel. The pause has made me realize that no matter what I do to my body, hair and face. No matter what measures I take to insure that I am attractive, I am still me, and that is exactly what he did not want. Me. It hurts, but this is better for me. I know there will still be moments of release, times when I jump, just to feel the pain. I know because even now after all is said and done, my heart stops beating for a second when he enters the room. When he touches me all the breath leaves my body. I can’t hide my love from him, but I can be safe in the knowledge that when we are together, if we ever are again, I am the only person in the room that is willing to or has the desire to jump.