Narrow Escape

   I tried to prepare for it. I hoped it would be sweeter, smoother, perhaps more gradual; somehow I feel that would be easier to take.
   The downward turn was so sharp, and the fall so brutal; I wince as I watch your pale body crashing down the precipice, hitting the bottom, being ripped apart by the jagged rocks at the bottom. You didn't even see the drop. You stepped right off the cliff with your eyes closed. And your heart open. I sit comfortably in the rubble, accustomed to the scenery. I can't look at you because I can't stand to watch my disinterest tear into your flesh. It's bad enough to pulverize you; to attentively witness it would be unendurable.
   I just always hope it will be different and it never is. And at every conclusion, I choke back misery and swear I will never let this happen again. I resolve to keep myself at bay, to lock myself away, to never break another heart. I close myself off and reinforce my boundaries. I dive back into dark, unrewarding cycles with selfish men, hoping they will punish me straight to redemption. I suffer through their anger and neglect, searching for my ever-elusive penance. Until eventually, someone new appears with that sweetly open smile and I think "maybe I will love you back." But it never happens. I always end up back here, shuddering as I try to forget that you're writhing on the ground inches from me.
   Someday someone's going to love you in such a beautiful way you'll completely forget that I didn't. But I would if I could.