Doubt

Sometimes I doubt.

I don't know.

Are they mine or.

When was the last time I gaze into the stars?

It was by the side of a highway where the bus broke down.

It was utter darkness save the flashes of headlights zooming by.

The sky was a sea of glittering diamonds.

Had I reach up, my hand will glide upon its dark liquid silkiness, scattering the stars, that blink like fireflies.

I might doubt.

But there are no other ways.

This is the only one I know.

So I doubt.

So?