And what had he left behind?

I imagined that, in death, he had shrivelled up smaller than ever. And then they burned him in an oven until he was nothing but ashes. And what had he left behind? A nothing-much book-shop in a nothing-much neighbourhood and two girls at least one of whom was a little bit strange? What kind of life was that? I wondered. Lying in that hospital bed with his cut-open head and his muddled brain, what had been on his mind as he looked at me?

So what do we leave behind?

always

you said we'll always be best friends
but sadly always had an end
i saw forever in this word
i saw until the end of world
it meant eterneties to come
outliving the almighty sun
yet human life is short and weak
it makes no difference what we think
we owe a death and we shall die.
it hurts we never said goodbye
we didn't have a closing line
no warning not the smallest sign
you died. how awful are these words
i always thought i would die first
i smoke i curse i drink i lend

alone and searching for a friend