You with your tongue, full of pretty little lies. A never ending web in which you have strung, something you can’t just beat down with a broom. This web you’ve created holds my heart in broken pieces. One here, one there, all caught by you. You have caused me so much pain.

Your detailed explicit messages with Sarah cut very deep. How you wanted to shove your cock deep inside of her. How you would kiss every inch of her body if she was there with you. How you would see her soon. I never knew when you threatened me on New Years Eve, saying that you would have her over, what you had said-what you continued to say to her after I spent the night in our house in your arms.

Then there’s Amanda, whom you had over once- at least that's what you told me. She came over and had pizza, and you watched movies. You didn't do anything. Oh wait, the story has changed. She tried to kiss you now. "Did you kiss her back?" "No, she kissed me but I pulled away, and then I told her about you." Another pretty little lie. You kissed her back. You kissed her back not once but many times. You kissed her the way I wish you kissed me. And it didn't stop there. There was truth-you did tell her about me. But not until she came over the second time. Not until after she laid in our bed and did to you what she did. Teased you, right? Funny you never mentioned that. You told me she didn't get the clue that you didn't want to have sex with her, then you told her about me. That was what you said. But you never mentioned the way she teased you, or the way you didn't make her stop. Nor did you mention to her that we were back together, no. She friended me on Snapchat. When she saw a picture of us together, she lost it. Because you lead her on. You kept what you had with her open in case things between us didn't work out. You kept her there. Why did you keep her there?

I don't know how many more there were, I couldn't imagine what you did. Wait- I can. That hurts me. I can see you undressing her in our bed. Making love to her like I don't exist. Betraying me in every way you can. I see it over and over every time I close my eyes. I see the underwear I found underneath the bed every time I dream. I see what may have happened... what I don't know happened... what I'm afraid to know happened...

How can I trust that it never did and never will-with all of these pretty little lies you have given me, how can I know the truth?  How can I know that you will ever tell the truth again? How can I grow with you, when you have left all of this to hinder our growth? How can you fix this?

What am I going to do, when I open your phone and see her name... Any of the hers. When I see your new app to ask girls out on romantic dates... When I see what you do when you get bored of me... When I see any of it again? It nearly killed me the last time. I still have the note I wrote, ready to take my own life, because I couldn't live with the way it made me feel. I would rather die than know the man I love is busy loving on others, taking them on dates and kissing their lips. No, I can't live with that. So tell me, will you stop? If you love me like I know you do, will you stop for me? For us?
We're pretending none of this happened-that there wasn't another woman in our bed, in your arms, in our house. That there weren't explicit conversations or mentions of dates, or dates attended. Were pretending I'm not broken. How long are we going to pretend?