As we sit here on my couch, I think about what remains. When you leave tonight, I'll remain here long after along with the imprint of your body on my furniture. And when you leave me, it'll be memories of your scent, your voice. And when those crumble with the sands of time, all that's left will be all of me.
Decades from now, I will die and leave behind a lifetime of myself in others and the never-ending pattern will continue until aeons later when it all truly ends and this universe collapses.
Then what remains?
I will leave others like I did the rest and you to me and hope what remains with me is the knowledge for a better "next time". And with them I'll leave the love I gave--to stay with them when I no longer could--for no hourglass or star-death can take that away.
But the hope of this is all I know remains for sure.