Unrequited Love

why do some things hide

in the closet or in drawers

for years, unheralded, never

used, forgotten and unneeded?

they only appear when packing

and demand answers-- am I

of any use, if not what happens

to me, do you intend to consign

me to that garbage along with

yesterday's avocado skins, or

am I resurrected for someone else?

why did you buy me, did we ever

form a relationship? did you ever

look upon me with favor?