Once again, I have forgotten you. I have left you behind, alone and helpless, and I fear you are rotting away.
I am so sorry.
In the beginning, my intentions were good. I remember the supermarket where I first laid eyes on you. You stood out so clearly in a crowd that became blurred and dull in the corners of my narrowed vision. A hunger overcame me, and I knew I wanted you, that I had to take you with me wherever I was going next. I approached cautiously, fearing the flawlessness I perceived from a distance to be an illusion, a cruel mirage of yearning. But as I got closer, I was astonished to find your beauty only heightened. Details immediately became noticeable, your smooth, unblemished skin, your slender figure with faultless curves. I picked you up that day, when everything was new and exciting, and we left together. I took you home in deep anticipation of holding you longer, peeling back your outer layer, getting to the real you, the sweetness.
Then, something happened. I forgot about you. I don't know how it happened, but I abandoned you. Some distraction took me away, and I got up and left like you meant nothing. When I returned and realized what I had done, I scorned myself for it, punished my disdain by promising to never let it happen again. You were still so beautiful.
And so you waited, and I tried my best, but it happened again. And then it happened again.
Each time I return, I am reminded of what I've done. It lingers heavy in the air, a perceivable scent of abandonment, of your slow decomposition. At a time, you were the singular object of my desire. How happy I would have been taking you in my hands, tasting your skin, enjoying your sweet aroma. But now it has become habit to ignore you, and I fear that, soon, you will be nothing but a shriveled version of your former ripened existence. Yes, it is now too late to savor you. I know that, some time ago, the solution became to throw you out, forget you, move on. But it has all become fruitless, as it seems every aspect of my life will continue to take precedence over your needs.
I have forgotten you once again banana, and even now I shudder at the thought of returning home to find you, sad and brown, hiding in the cupboard. It seems you will remain forever waiting, lonely and abandoned, sentenced to another day of decomposition. I will never eat you, yet will continually forget to throw you away. And so there you will sit, rotting, until your once stunning figure becomes unbearable and mushy, and I fear only then will you receive the attention you deserved a long time ago, because only then will I finally remember you.