i turn out my pockets
to prove i have nothing
left of you in my
possession
and am surprised
to find
ashes, a little salt,
a brittle molar hollowed
out by those twin mice
regret and despair
and what could be a
hummingbird’s heart
–beating or still i cannot
say–but composed entirely
of smoke
——
Words and Feathers 
Isn’t that something? No matter how we scrub someone’s existence from our life, we always find a tiny hidden granule or a nugget of them. I find those annoying reminders in a fold of my brain. They surface when I least expect them. I loved your poem! I can relate to every word.
Thanks so much.
Yeah, I don’t think we’re free of anyone who wanders into our lives. Even random people that you think you’ll forget as soon as they’re out of the picture.