the desk drawer to say hello
to the box
of number
two pencils that have
been sitting in there
for at least ten
years.
they lie beside the rubber
eraser
and the little red plastic
sharpener
that's never been used.
they look lonely
and sad, all of them,
but it could just be
me projecting my own
feelings onto
others and inanimate
objects.
maybe my therapist
is right about me.
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