She is aware of the way things are, and still she hides the truth from herself.



Sometimes, late at night when the AC is giving her gooseflesh and she can't sleep, she reads all the text messages you sent her. Some of them make her smile. The rest pull at the corners of her zinfandel lips.



She wishes that you knew everything about her, like you think you do. She has her secrets, and she often lies to you. It's nothing bad. It's just something she doesn't know how to put into words. She can put it in writing, though. Somehow it works better when it rhymes and she can lie again and tell you it's easier to write about things you've never experienced.



The sad part is you believe her.



But you could be lying too.



She smiles at your pictures on her wall, and honestly does want you to be happy. So she inquires about your latest interests. Her name, where you met, if she smokes. That's always been a big deal. She does smoke. And it's the same brand you do.