Painting the kitchen in your new flat

it’s one of those nights 
when we decide to give in 
and sack off the cleanse –
two friends 
with enough rum to feel
sore tomorrow

you’ve still got paint on
from where you’ve touched
your forehead and cheek –
it’s midweek
it cracks when you laugh
and drink

I remember you as you were 
when we’d stay up smoking
wiping a CD on your jeans –
just fifteen 
we’d talk about where we’d 
go together

doesn’t tonight feel almost like those
and still not quite the same as before
when we’d sit, sentries of dawn –
and yawn
sleeping long past the birds and
the sun

I ask if it’ll ever be like it was 
when we were kids, and you 
smile and don’t say a lot –
probably not 
then we laugh and we don’t 
know why

and now it’s one of those nights
when we sit and remember
and pretend we’re not blue –
it’ll do
but I’ll never forget being young
with you