Drawer of Maybe

Scissors lost beneath tangled wires,

a paperclip bent like a quiet sigh.

Batteries with no charge left,

a receipt folded into a forgotten day.

The drawer stuck — a protest,

clatter spilling out like the sighs

I tuck into corners no one opens.

Half-used pens, tangled tape — all maybe,

things waiting for a hand that won't come.

This jumble, a small, breathing mess

that keeps the unfinished alive

like whispered promises

folded deep inside plastic shadows.