your presence fades
    so slowly                  
    but so quickly          
    at the same time      
words scribbled in pencil, in the corners of our books
hesitantly rub away
and the stray hairs in between pages of old notepads
are dismissed
the old coffee cup you used to use, that was always your favourite
it's been pushed to the very back of the cupboard, out of sight
I replaced the bedsheets that you burnt holes in
with your cigarette butts
and all your old T-shirts (still way too big for me)
are just nightclothes now, that belong to only myself

sometimes I think
maybe
I can make out your scent
in the fresh washing
and I find unused bottles of your shampoo
stored in the bathroom cabinet
and an odd sock here or there
that's certainly not mine
and maybe
just maybe
I miss you,
sometimes