I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but I’m feeling weighted down - I’ve got your breath in my lungs and your words on my mind, heavy and umber-hued like the the rusted skeleton of a long sunken ship. It’s all what-could and never what-is, I think - all this time spent watching you run ahead and now suddenly you tell me to slow down, wait up, hold fast. 
What do you expect of me? What do you want me to say? I laid my cards clear and plain as I could, and each and every time you tell me of another man, another body, a different face and name that all add up to more than I am but less than what you need.  
Simply, I do not know who to be for you. 
I’ve told you I love you, I’ve admitted my longing and the depths of this loneliness. Was that ever enough? You’re killing me, bit by bit and line by line - tell me plain and hold me close, else cut this ribbon and leave me in deep water. 
I need to know. All this back and forth, the half-truth and veiled honesty, is far beyond cruel to us both.