whose book is this?

i can't remember who 

lent me

this book.

it's been sitting on the kitchen

counter for six years now.

never read.

partially skimmed

and then a glance at

the blurb in back,

and the slight bio of the author.

it's a hardback copy.

i feel odd about putting

it on the shelf with others,

ones that i've read.

i don't know why

i never sat down and read it.

maybe it was the person

who gave it to me,

he or she, i can't remember.

did i like them.

we're we in love.

was i bored with them,

were they bored with me.

did things end badly?

perhaps. they often do.

the book is still here, though.

waiting,

for what, i wish i knew.