I didn't even know that I am lonely,
until I remembered that everybody still sleeps with the promise that they will see each other again,
and until I saw pictures of my friends that made me remember everything about them.

Their only friends are not endless rituals
and tears in the middle of the night,
or halfhearted struggles in a heartless fight.
They have companions to meet their ends,
the ones that used to be my friends.

Everybody that I love
is so far away that all I have of them is some debris in my mind,
crafted from memories,
of a friendship so kind, or at least one of a kind.