We have a habit of leaving the cupboards open

This is a poem that I wrote the other day. Feel free to comment with improvements you think I should make.

I don’t know what it is.





Perhaps someone was too hungry to notice.

Perhaps someone was in a rush.

Perhaps they were trying too hard to find a cup or a piece of tupperware.

Perhaps I was lost in my thoughts,

Dreaming of what could be.

Perhaps it is the law of entropy.

Perhaps not.

Perhaps the cupboards open themselves. They need the air.

Perhaps the food wants to remind us that it is there;

Or that it isn’t.

Perhaps we’ll never know.

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