Tell Me.

Hey guys,
Sometimes, I have days where I lie in bed and think back to who I've"loved" and lost. To all I've felt and what I really feel. In that sorrowful state I can stay for a number of hours; thinking, wondering about my life. What has it really come to?
"Tell me" he presses his lips to my neck, he has that pang for lust. A lust I cannot feel nor express; not him, not me. I don't want to be told what to feel by someone's actions; my body does them for me. My body leads me to do what to do- not the mind. The mind is immune to the situation, its not involved, it's in the corner. Crying like a child; like me. I'm that child in the corner. I'm confused, scared and lonely, just like my mind. His voice is seductive, wanting, it urges rather than pulls away. What could he want to know? What is it that he possibly wants? Does he want me well here I am. I AM HERE- I'm screaming, the child is screaming, my heart is screaming; we're all screaming. What more could he want, than me being here?
Does he know, does he know? I love a man. I think about other men, I dream about them. And yet, I love him. I love you. There I said it, do I say it? This is after all a passionate affair; no we aren't cheating. We are in love, of course we are. He wouldn't have... proposed otherwise. We are the perfect couple, the couple everyone wants to be. But we have our secrets, I love another man who doesn't love me and he has secret boxes and draws in his office with tiny locks. Tell me- tell me what's in those boxes. Why do you want me to tell you something; you should really be telling me something. Please my love, don't hate me, don't judge me. I still love you, I will always love you with an endearing love.
But, me and this man I love; we had history. We were in love one time too, we used to lie in bed all day watching movies too, he used to take me for long drives down to the beach too, he loved me like you do. You do love me? Don't you? For I love you with heart and soul- with all I have within me. So don't look at me with those sleepy brown eyes, that change in different lights. So, don't tenderly hold my hand like it's something you own. So, don't kiss me with passion because it's a different passion to what I had with him. So, don't ask me to tell you something. You will know the answer, you will know the answer when you listen to my heart and it will tell you everything. It is racing when you kiss me, when you hold me and embrace me in your arms; like pillars that stand strong.
Kiss me again. I look into your eyes begging you for one more kiss. And when that signal is confirmed and you do kiss me. It's nothing like kissing him, your lips feel strange and unusual but they are lips I love, lips I have kissed on hazy afternoons, lips I've kissed in Paris, lips I've kissed when catching a train- leading me out of your arms.
"Tell me" he says again, he wants me to say something he's urging me to say it. To move forward, to say "tell you what?" But I don't I hold back. You know secrets, you know that I kissed a man; not the one I love that isn't you. I kissed that man on his wedding day. For god's sake I say, pull yourself together. Too many secrets that he knows. We weren't together then, but you knew. You knew, before I knew I'd even do it. Kissing a man who was about to be married, who's fiancée stood at the alter waiting wasn't like kissing you now. With your sense of urgency, why is everything a rush? Please just stop, stop rushing. Why is life always rushing around. Why do you have to make me rush. I just want to be still. I don't want to think about when I kissed Jonathan on his wedding day because of a stupid mistake. I don't want to think about loving Jake. I want to think about loving you. I can't say your name, it jams in my throat; I'm going to be sick.
You pull me close, you tell me you love me but do "tell me" he asks more promptly direct. He wants to ask the question back he wants me to enquire and be curious. But how can I? When I'm sat here feeling like the worlds tumbling around me. How can I ask what is it my love? How can I. Please don't hate me and you keep kissing. You love me, like I love you.
"Tell you what Peter?" There. I said it; I did it and asked you what to say. Are you proud of me?
Love,

TSITR