Everything is a relic

Source: Sketchport

I wonder if you ever think of me,
if I’m on your mind
the way you stay night and day in mine

when the cabman bangs me
in a pothole,
I remember when you drove

down the third hook of my brassier,
let go of the jugs
whispering the warmth of your hugs.

I burnt your portrait
the night you left
but from there where it was, you still leer,

you still snigger so loudly
when I lace my shoes
and when I place orders in twos

there’s still the scent of you
in this bed
and in everything once shared;

there’s still the thought of you
wondering if you think of me.