I, the archaeologist

We were at your place
Cleaning up a storm,
Happily sneezing up the dust
And sorting out the mess you made
Before you ever met me.

We read your history book of
Oversized suits, a broken church,
Handwoven scarfs scarcely laced
With the perfume of another lover.

It was a fun game: I, the archaeologist,
Collecting the pieces of you.
And then an unexpected artifact:
Behind the bed,
A silky piece of underwear
Untouched by the dusty hands of time.

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