does a tap remember who forgot to close it?
does it know whose bottle it filled last?
out of reach, i see it every day.
does it sense all the people who passed?

does it sometimes dream of crying?
or does it only leak instead?
i watch the droplets gather there —
answering questions better left unsaid.

sad and lonely, there it lies.
the corner features mild surprise.
in hopes someone else’d arrive,
it stays open-eyed — but never tries.

does a light switch remember what the tap doesn’t?
together, do they secretly eat bread?
they are in cahoots — unprofessionally so.
can i call it existential dread instead?

i wonder what i’ve left in them — and what they refuse to give me back.