Especially Those

I know when you're lying.

It's in the way your voice shifts,
half a second too late,
like you had to catch up to the version of yourself you just made up.

And I should hate it.
I don't.
It does something to me,
knowing I'm worth the effort of deception.

I tell myself it's not the lies I want,
It's what's underneath them.

But that's not fully true.
I like the lie.
I like being the one who catches it.
I like knowing something you didn't mean to show.

It makes me feel closer to you in a way honesty never could.
Because honesty is easy.
This isn't.

This is watching you slip and pretending I didn't see it,
just so I can see how far you'll go.
Just so I can see how much you think I matter.

I should walk away.
I know that.
But there's something wrong with me.

I want every ugly thing you've hidden.
Every secret.
Every shame.
Even the things that would make me leave.
Especially those.

If there's something you're ashamed of
Something that would hurt me
I want that too.
I want the worst of you.

Not because I'm strong enough to take it,
but because I can't stand not knowing.

Because not knowing has become an addiction.

I keep picking at your lies like fingers worrying a scab

knowing I'll find blood,
knowing it'll hurt,

and reaching anyway.