We were never set in stone;
just etched on a talcum surface,
fingernail scratches instead of
deep knifed grooves.
scratches that were easily rubbed
off by the uncompassionate hand of
Time.
worn into non-existence,
no proof of us two
who were actually one
for a while.
no manuscripts to tell of
our love story,
no history book to recount the
moments spent together,
no orator to lecture
the memories we made.
just a smooth talcum surface
eroded by time to a silky softness,
waiting to be scratched again.
This piece has been published in Teen Ink’s monthly print magazine.
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