Who am I supposed to be,

Without you here to remind me,

Of what is supposed to matter,

In our smallest scheme of things.

All I can imagine to be,

Is the shriveled remnants of,

A man I could have,

But wasn’t destined to end up being,

Stuck in my throat,

Like a protestation come a moment too late,

The shadow of the tomorrow I,

For a second,

Dared to dream of.