I search
fingers sifting through mail
through drawers

I search
tiptoeing quickly to the next room
then the next

I search
eyes looking through every crevice
every crack
every bowl
every stack

I search
and I search
but I cannot find them

those were the poems
the poems she mentioned before...
those were the poems she intended me to have
the poems she left behind for me
and you've taken them from me
you took them
trying to erase her but
she will never be gone
never

and so in the cover of night
I search
and I search
for the lost, no, stolen letters of my love
the last traces of her