Empty pages on the internet contain
lives of our friends who didn’t 
make it to the present we so enjoy.
Their pictures are time capsules,
their words logs of life long lost,
their friends still posting on birthdays
“I miss you. You’re gone too soon.”
The memorials of binary baubles
ever present in its coding. Its flashbacks
remind us of love left in the ledgers.
I wonder if they still read the adverts,
if they can solve the evolving Captchas,
or when the servers will scrub their data.