Scribbles

I suddenly realized

that all we could ever be

is some scribbles on worthless papers

written by me,

erased by you.

It came to my mind

that all we could ever be

is unfulfilled dreams

in boring nights

in an empty cold room.

I am now sure

that all we could ever be

is something we never were

and never will.

When time ends

and all people gather to tell their stories

happy or bitter,

we will have none to tell..

because I wrote it,

and you erased it.

never to be retrieved again.

Dec 29, 2008

11:46 PM