It's almost like you don't exist
Except for in my imagination.
And I'm more than a little curious
To know if that is why
Our friendship
Endures.
Of course, the painted portraits
In all our conversations
Detailing your myriads of adventures
Goes far to convince
Even the most skeptical
Of your factual existence,
And yet, you're like that imaginary friend
We all have at some point dreamed up--
The friend who just knows
Who we are and where we stand;
The friend with whom laughter
Is infectious and enduring;
The friend whose intangible presence
Gives far more comfort than a tangible touch;
The friend for whom every moment
Is about quality and not quantity;
The friend we always imagined we would have
But struggled to find in the real world.
And yet, there you stand,
Granted it's a thousand miles away.
But perhaps that distance is why
This friendship solidified as quickly as it did
And why it feels like it will endure all tests of time.
Or perhaps it's the simpler fact
That you and I
Are two sides to the same coin
In personality, ethics, morals, and justice,
And that you weren't made up by me
In my overly fanciful imagination;
For there is far more power and stability in reality
Than in one's conjured visualization.