You left
Traces
Of yourself
All over my room.

A poem scribbled in the
Margin of a book.

The movie we enjoyed.

Your cigarettes on the counter.

Your gray shirt
On my dresser.

Your smell on my crimson sheets.

Your laughter in my ears.

Where are you tonight?

In whose room 
are you leaving traces?

Or, are you alone?

Perhaps discovering 
The traces of me
left on your soul?