You don't call the girl who broke your heart six months ago because you want to smoke a bowl and chill with her for a few hours. You don't call her because you were just "wondering" if she was in town. So why did you call?

At first I tried to be careful, not too friendly. But that's hard with you, the easy way you talk. You always know how to make me laugh. Nick called to me from the hall and you said, "Who's that?"
"Nick, my boyfriend."

You faltered then, which is rare. Your nature is to barrel ahead, full steam, blindly if necessary. You never stop moving, but you never moved on. In all the years I've known you, I've shattered you into pieces about five times. You keep coming back. I keep letting you. The last time I saw you, you didn't want to hug me goodbye. Maybe you didn't want to touch me at all.

Why did you call?