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.