I’m have entered the now or never stage of life.
That place where the future is short-term and the past seems endless.
My collection of lives is a trunk full.
Time has baggage limits.
The eternity thing is beyond comprehension.
I considered writing memoirs but that would be repetitious.
The affirmative slant is that I am waiting for inspiration.
I am afraid that I have disappointed her one time too many.
Flawed creation
Is a mediocre date.