In vain,
I searched my apartment
instantly
upon your departure.
My anxious eyes
and prehensile hands
hoping
and searching for a forgotten item,
a trace of your presence:

an old shirt,
a half-finished book,
even a bobby pin.

Until I gave up,
I found
nothing.
Retiring to my bed, however
afforded me the greatest find
imaginable,

my temporal security complete:
your scent lingers still in my sheets.