I can tell when you lie,

which you very rarely do,

because your eyes go wide as marbles

and your eyebrow go up nearly to your hair

but sometimes they don’t

and even then I can tell

when you’re telling me how wasted you got,

or how much you don’t like him.

I can tell when you’re thinking

your mouth goes quiet

and curves up the occasional quick absentminded smile

and you nod at flickering sounds

in an effort to look interested

You should know that our conversations

scare the hell out of me

because of how filterless I am

with you

I know that you try hard to love your mother

slaving for love

all your life

I know that pain makes you smile

and you act more high when you’re sober

I know that you’re most honest at two in the morning

and you aren’t so much the pathological liar

you believe to be

and I know

you do not give enough credit

to the beautiful person

sewn in your skin

dear princess,

we’ve had every conversation in the world

and we never run out of things to talk about

Our love isn’t a river or rainbow or meadow

Nothing that can be drained or dissipated or destroyed

Our love is a cockroach

hard and unyielding and stubborn and able to survive an apocalypse.