I keep looking for evidence that you were here.
Proof that once you shared this bed.
Some something embodying our shared time.
What I do find leaves me lost.

Three and a half pairs of socks.
Steak seasoning.
Aluminum foil.
Diet orange soda.
Hot sauce.

And, if you count them,
Notes I left for you.

Sometimes it feels like I dreamt it all,
Just like I'm dreaming you'll read these poems,
The only notes I can leave for you now.
Find them, and maybe I won't be so lost anymore.
Find me.