I know that you know I lied

But you smiled like you were tired

I know that you know I tried

But we both kept one foot outside

You left your sweater on purpose,

Third drawer, underneath the fake perfume.

I touched it like it might explode.

Like memory was made of fumes.

I didn't call. You didn't ask.

We both sat still in different rooms.

That’s how it ends. Not with a bang—

Just a spoon dropped in a quiet afternoon.

I know that you know I lied

But you smiled like you were tired

I know that you know I tried

But we both kept one foot outside

If I wrote it all down

Would you tear out the page?

Would you read it in bed?

Would you laugh? Would you rage?

Or would you say nothing at all

Like the silence we married

When we left that café

Like it carried our names

But never our shame

I know that you know I lied

But you smiled like you were tired

I know that you know I tried

But your hands stayed uninspired

You still haunt the songs I don’t finish.

The voice I rehearse when I’m honest.

And that’s the part I’ll never show—

The you that knew I’d never go.