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james
May 17, 2019
the last time i saw my childhood best friend,
he was sleeping slowly in an open birch casket
in a boring room at a regular funeral home.
it didn’t matter that he was most unorthodox in life.
after death, i suppose, we are all treated the same.
not sure how the mortician wiped the pain from his resting face.
everyone in the room was thinking the same.
living such a hurtful life,
decades spent in the hospital
wrapped up in one afternoon
i don't think he was enjoying it.
© Anonymous
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My best friend, father figure and mentor were all the same person. When he died I blocked it out and didn't react to it for years. This is the best I can do.