you call me to check in,
assuring me of your new composure
and make bad jokes for hours,
galloping between Dundas & Augusta.
i’ve known you since you were fourteen -
you’re still tormentingly silly
and too easy to lay with.
you never really made me nervous
until this week -
feelings growing out of cement
in age and moments between memories,
falling into places painted over.
i don’t think we ever wanted this
to really be together,
but we can’t seem to get
rid of each other either.
Flinging back into comfort -
do i like him or is it familiar,
why not both?
Let’s sit a while longer this time,
and see if the paint dries differently.