Sometimes,
all that's left of a friend is the wallet they bought you for your birthday, in the bittersweet smile that appears on your face when you remember that moment.

Sometimes,
they are only in the stories you tell. Their name escapes your lips before you even realize they were there.

Sometimes,
they are in the little moments of regret.
The dull pain between so very few heartbeats before they're gone again.

Sometimes,
they are in shelves of shops,
in "they would like it" thoughts before you realize you can't even remember the last time you've met.

Sometimes,
they are in the moments when you can.

But now they only exist in old photobooks, in fading memories.

In dreams, their faces side by side complete strangers.

They are everywhere.

But really, they are nowhere.