Tell me ... questions for your muses.
Tell me about the moment you first realised you were in love with someone you were never supposed to want.
Tell me the one secret you’ve never told a single living soul - not even when they had a blade to your throat.
Tell me how your hands shake when you’re trying to pretend you don’t care as much as you do.
Tell me what you whisper to yourself in the dark when you think no one else can hear.
Tell me about the scar you hate the most and the story you’ll take to your grave rather than explain.
Tell me what song, smell or taste drags you straight back to the worst day you’ve ever lived through.
Tell me how your face changes right before you look someone in the eye and lie to them.
Tell me the promise you made to yourself when you were small that you still haven’t broken.
Tell me what you would say in your last message if you knew you weren’t coming home.
Tell me about the person you miss every single day but would rather die than ever contact again.
Tell me how differently you sleep when you’re alone compared to when someone else is in the room with you.
Tell me the one question you’re terrified someone will eventually ask you.
Tell me what you keep hidden in the back of a drawer that you only look at when you’re too drunk to feel ashamed.
Tell me how your voice cracks or softens when you accidentally talk about the one who got away.
Tell me about the night you almost gave up on everything.
Tell me what you see behind your eyelids when you try - really try - to remember what peace felt like.
Tell me the nickname you despise being called and why it cuts deeper than any insult.
Tell me how you reacted the very first time someone ever said “I love you” to your face.
Tell me the lie you tell most often and who you’re actually trying to protect with it.
Tell me what you would burn to ashes if you were certain no one could ever prove it was you.
Tell me how your heartbeat sounds different when danger is sleeping right beside you.
Tell me the memory you keep replaying on nights when sleep refuses to come.
Tell me what you would beg for if all your pride was already broken and you were on your knees.
Tell me about the letter you wrote in your head a hundred times but never put on paper.
Tell me how your real smile looks - the one that isn’t for show.
Tell me what you’re more afraid of losing than you are of losing your own life.
Tell me about the one touch you ache for but would never, ever ask for.
Tell me how you say goodbye when you already know it’s the last time.
Tell me which version of yourself you grieve for the most - the one that’s already gone.
Tell me what you would do differently if you could sit down with your younger self for just five minutes.
