You ask all of these questions, and you demand answers.

Answers you deserve, and answers I do not have. 

Answers to questions the no one else has ever cared to ask. 

You stand there, with your angry expression and your pleading eyes - yet I cannot answer. 

I try to force the words to come out, my lips to make the movements - but still, no sound comes from my mouth. 

So there we sit, staring at each other, in some sort of stand off. 

It’s not that I don’t want to answer. It’s that your questions expose me. Leave me vulnerable, and unsheltered. The truth is, you understand me better than I have ever understood myself. 

You ask again, and I become frustrated as the angry tears pool in my eyes. 

I sit there, staring at you, silently begging for this to end with a lump in my throat. 

It seems that I’ve choked again, darling.