I shiver in the streetlight of my final now.

Right now, simultaneously being the last time I wait to sleep,
And the first time I fear its arrival.

It is not that I fear being forgotten.
It is that I fear never doing something worth remembering.

A deathbed is too fragile for the hard truth that the last door closed to me will be my casket.

The streetlight flickers.

Peace with this last present is a timeless question,
And I have given it pieces of me I have yet to give myself.

The streetlight flickers.

It will have to be enough.