I just left your house and
counted the glowing, dotted lines
that passed by all too eagerly

The fluorescent paint
reflects the lights back to me
like the letter I passed to you
which you so hastily returned

A chipped away memory and
a winter kiss only dreamt of
finalize this draft of our
suspenseful novella

But I hear you have many of
these unfinished stories
pushed aside while you reread
the same old text
hoping that you can add to
the blank pages in the back

And while you study
those worn, yellow pages
you leave behind
a library of fortune
too late to discover

With a flick of the thumb
and a twist of the wrist
these missed adventures become
glowing embers on the asphalt
a fading memory in my rear-view mirror