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