“We need to talk”, has there ever been a more stereotypical sentence spoken? Has any combination ever provoked more fear, more tears and self-loathing than those four words? The sadness comes like the inevitable period, ending the thought irrevocably and with such crushing finality it takes your lungs off guard. And yet when he spoke them, holding me close against him, with his heartbeat in one ear and the death of dreams in another, I felt myself drift, no, fly into a place of serenity. Acceptance came instantly, as we had tred this floor before. I knew every word that followed before they left the lips I had come to know so well, crave for, thirst for. I smiled, and let out a small sad laugh, there was nothing else to say. He told me he didn’t love me, or that maybe he did…but not in the way that he should. And as he spoke I realized I felt the same. In the silence was the question, “Is it possible for us to love one another, in the way we need to, could we do it if we stuck it out, if we tried?” And while the answer still remains a mystery I could not allow myself to beg again, I didn’t want to fight or plead or cry. I just wanted to sleep. All of the energy drained from me, like someone had cut the line. I touched his sweet face and felt the same electricity as always. I sadly acknowledged there was something there, of course there was something, but why would I want someone who doesn’t want me? I asked a few questions, things I felt needed answers at the time, but mostly I assured him I really was okay, and perhaps most importantly I thanked him for the beautiful four months together. It sounded silly as it came out of my mouth, was that all it was, Four measly months? But I know it was more, maybe not in the physical sense of time, but on the clock that the heavens built for lovers. Where time goes so fast as to take your breath away, and sometimes so slow we think our hearts have stopped. I felt his lips bless my forehead one last time, felt him transfer his adoration to me one last time, and I took a deep breath and turned away. What else was there to say? We had both decided we weren’t fighting. It wasn’t that we weren’t worth fighting for, it’s just our feelings were indescribable. Somewhere the paint in our picture had stopped blending, not that the colors weren’t pleasant, but would they keep the viewer standing there? Entranced by the beauty and symmetry of it? And yet again a black hole stood before us. I don’t know what will become of us, I don’t know if we will maintain a friendship that we built between the lines of lovers, and I don’t know if I will ever feel safe in his arms again, in fact i don't know if I will ever find myself wrapped and warm there again. What I do know is I am okay on my own, even when the silence hurts. I stand once again in a showdown with my heart. Wanting to console and comfort her, but hating her for once again leading us astray. Because all I want is to love, and be loved. I find that need to be evolutionary and prudent. And I will fight for the preservation of that instinct.