Still a question mark

There are thoughts you think and there are thoughts others put into your head.

When I am done thinking about all things that can wrong between us and discarded those thoughts, someone will come up with them again - the unanswerable questions, the doubts, the suspicion.

It's not easy to restore your trust when it's been broken, but it's even more difficult when there's no one to tell you, you can trust again.

I could be jealous and insecure and see things from a prejudiced wife's point of view. But why would a mother see her son in the same light and worry for her daughter-in-law? Why would friends want to shield from the pain they know I could feel? I'm not alone in seeing what I do; others see it too. They see him and her and they sense what I do.

And yet he denies it. And leaves me wondering whether I should believe him - the one person I've believed the - or others around us: him, her and me.

Is it just cruel fate that keeps bringing me up against the same blocks? Or is this a sign that I need to stop indulging in wishful thinking? Am I closing my eyes to the reality or am I seeing things that don't exist?

Truth & dare

I will not ask you any more questions and save you the trouble of lieing. I will give you a chance to tell me the truth. No, I will give you another chance to tell me the truth. If you don't take it, I will believe your lies as your version of the truth. I have no alternative. No, it's not love that takes away my alternatives; I don't think I'm in love with you anymore. It's the exhaustion, the futility of making you see my side of the picture, of realising you're too meek to accept your mistakes, too scared I will not forgive them again that stops me from confronting you again.

And anyway, you have taken away my right to ask you any questions. My mistrust apparently bothers you, but you don't know how to win over my trust, you don't know how easy it is to be honest with me and fool me still. You believe you will be lucky enough to be sly and never get caught, don't you? You forget you weren't so lucky in the past.

If there is nothing, why do you feel the need to lie? Why do I feel that the way you look at her is not different? Why do I ignore my instincts that tell me I'm a blockade in the way?

Tell me I'm wrong. But tell me the truth please.

A romantic dinner,
A tiny gift box
Of sexy lingerie
Tucked under my pillow.

A walk under the stars
Moony-eyed,
A passionate night -
Caresses and cries.

Long drives and wine,
Holding hands.
A touch here, a touch there,
Secret smiles.

Hickies, holidays
'Miss you' messages.
Showers together
Kneading, rubbing, feeling each other.

Surprises

Plans
Kisses
A cup of happiness.

Praying
Wishing
Wanting
Whispering.

A home
A hearth
Love, laughter,
You and Me.

A wish.

Shut me up

What is it about what I say that puts you off so completely?
Or is it the way I say it? Or is it just me that makes you want to shut me up?

Last night I tried talking to him about what most couples usually talk about after they've been married so long - kids. He said he didn't want to talk about it. So what's weird, you ask, he just might not want to talk about it. Well, we used to talk a lot about having children when we were dating. But there has been an uneasy silence on the topic since we got married. I sensed he did not want to talk about kids yet. So I didn't, all these years... But it was after great deliberation that I broke the silence, because someone had to. And it was with great love that I broached the topic. He shut me up, snubbed me, just like that.

So I changed tracks. Became funny. Maybe that's what he'd like to see? But that put him off too... I tried being myself and that was too kiddish for him. Oh no! I was "acting" like a kid. No, I'm not cute and I'm not grwon up, I'm not emotional, I'm just stupid. So fine, I'll shut up. Now you talk.

What is it about us
That makes me want to fall in love with you
All over again?

How do you know what to say
To wipe the smile off my face?

Fantasy of love

Some time when I was in school, I had begun to play a secret game: at night I would transport myself into a world of make belief where I became the only object of affection. Sometimes I would be a coy Indian bride, sometimes a slut. It didn't matter; at the end I made myself feel so sexy, the game became addictive.

I don't remeber how long I played that game alone. But I never tired of it. That was till I met RG. The nameless other of my fantasies was replaced by the man I was falling in love with. And I continued to play my fantastical games till I could physically be with RG. My world of make belief disappeared into a lovely reality. And my games died a natural death. I could now live out my fantasies in flesh and blood.

So many years later, I felt the need to revive my secret game - it had been more satisfying than real life. But going back to that nameless, faceless person was not easy. I kept harking back to RG even in my imaginary world and kept getting disappointed.

Last night, I finally managed it. I let myself believe I was desirable once again, sexy too. Or that there was someone who found me so. When RG got into bed next to me, I decided to live out my fantasy, hoping it would come true, that he would want me like the man in my dreams.

It didn't happen. I was so stupid to think that my world of imagination could be anything else.

It crushed me. The man I loved could not reciprocate my passion the way he had only a few years ago. I wasn't looking for sex, just a little love that would make me glow all over again. Was that to be only my secret game?