I find you in songs stumbled upon,
The smell of sweat and cheap detergent
And the sound of Pink Floyd and Dawes.
In the smell of ***,
Your sisters backpack rotting in my basement
And the picture of us my mother kept.
In the photographs I swore I burned,
The loneliness of cold showers
Parties, Austin and button up shirts.
In the poems I still write,
The pills I still take
And the black nail polish you liked.
In shirtless men with hairy chests,
The mention of a Cubs game
And the crevasses of my consciousness.  
In my present I find our past,
The relics of a romance
And the memories that last.