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you're gone.

the house still smells like you
and the right side of my bed too.
your pale love marks still litter my neck,
the creases of my hips
and the curve of my shoulder.
there's a ring from your coffee cup
on the counter from yesterday
and a pack of your goddamn cigarettes
on the living room table.

you don't clean up well; never did
always leaving your orange peels
on the damn window sill
and your towel on the chair
in the corner of the room.
i hated that-
but i loved you.

when all's said and done;
after i've liquored down the memories,
i will be the only tangible thing
left to prove you were here at all.