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.