I'm missing ghosts

I miss the people I became so achingly close to, and never hear from.
I miss the people I became so achingly close to, and now we talk about the weather. I miss the ghosts I made for them.
Duration is irrelevant.
It matters how close we got.
I have countless stories. A gigantic heap of people who I became intensely connected to and who now, I rarely ever hear from. I comfort myself with the fact that I have countless stories to tell. But I don't want stories! I want friends! Real, meaningful, rich friendships.
So consider this a published call. If we ever knew one another tenderly, if we ever exchanged more than phone numbers and pleasantries, please come back into my life...

The start to some story in the future:

My feet were dark red with cold. I've had to sleep with socks on for the last few nights. The scary part is that it's not amazingly cold outside, as least given the fact that this is Syracuse New York and it's still only March. I'm not sure why my circulation is suddenly so poor. I crawled into bed and Sushi, my roommate's cat, leapt up to join me. As I set my alarm clock and the 3 additional alarms on my cell phone (I had to wake up at 6:30 the next morning) Sushi started chewing on my light blue fleece blanket. It smelled like my cat from back home, Ricky. I grabbed Sushi under his front paws and pulled him to me. “Stop it" I said squarely into his eyes. He blinked and licked his nose and I let go. I turned off the light and he padded down to the end of the bed and curled up near my cold red feet. I wish I could say I was grateful. That would make me a good person but instead I sighed at the thought that I would not be free to move my legs around for the rest of the night. This is the reason why I am bad at love.

remember me as a time of day

"If Kat were a time of day she would be early morning. Light blue and yellow, cold floors and silence."

Their stiletto heels seem to tap out
"I'm-more-so-phi-sti-cat-ed-than-you"
I'll take my silent sneakers.