No one can replace me. Our presence seems to permanently linger. Only those who dented the essence of nolgastic memories can remain. The others fade in our memories as they had no significance. Others are forced to embrace your absence, a few morn. It seems that to only a few, we were the sparks that composed their fire, the water that nurtured them until their blossoming. But it was only few who noticed this. It was only few who felt with their hearts and thought with their minds. We are gone, like ghosts who romp with the hope that one day their animation may come into play. But our shoes have been filled and your clothes have been worn by someone else. But forever those leather shoes are too big to fill. We have no option but abandon all hope of revival, for our presence is no longer felt, our words are no longer heard, and our names are no longer spoken.