I Am Using You

Yes I am using you.

I'm using you for your smiles and insistance on five hugs a day-

for the time I thought the album must be crap if you kept replaying just the two songs on repeat

as we drove down the country roads by the house you said you would buy

I'm using you for the day I came to your doorstep with a box of cereal, stained cheeks, and a quivering voice,

back from the days when staying at your house was the best lie to cover up the somewhat innocent truth.

I'm using you for walking around the course when we pretend we're playing but really the violent throws are a cover up for the changes we can't fight

and the voices we dont want to keep down.

I'm using you for the fence-hoping, hottub embracing, foolish foolish times

the junkyard pictures, the winding highway,

the sleeping in the car because 

no-we-won't-pay-the-cheap-hostel-rate

and no we won't ask him to stay in his house

its awkward and uninviting

and we would have regretted that anyway.

I'm using you for the balloons after pulled teeth,

the times you said you didnt want to see me because you knew priorities were something we were supposed to be paying attention to instead.

Later we realized priorities are subjective.

I'm using you for the mutual understanding that one day we might not recognize eachother's last names,

for the journals we wrote and think about burning,

the chalk drawings in our cul-de-sac when i emulated your style-

even though I think you were trying to emulate mine.

I'm using you for the scribbles you send me in the mail, the postits you've left on the desk,

for the 

"manipulative accusations" and for my insistance in claiming your stubborn tendencies

and not-quite-hidden smiles.

I'm using you for your funny dances, 

our shared awkward glances

and the maybe-too-many second chances.

Are you using me?