She told me that she knew everything you had told me,
I told her, “You know nothing. You don’t know the way he rubs his nose when he’s nervous,
or his lips’ turning pale when he fakes a smile,
or the slight tremble in his voice when he hides his fear,
or his cold laughter when someone told him an awkward joke,
the smile lines that was not there before,
the tangles in his hair, the small cuts on his lips,
the way his eyelashes drop across his face,
or the way he squinted when sunlight invades his pupils,
And many, many other things of him that he himself doesn’t know,
but only I know. Yet You know nothing.”
