When I am dead, please think of me once more,
not as the wife that faded into grey,
with eyes too tired, lips too thin to say
the farewell words I should have said before.
Once think of me the way I would have been
had I lived on, with you, and you stayed mine.
Once see me as our bodies intertwine.
When I am dead, picture me in this scene.
We had a choice and took the one we did,
it was the wrong one, I can now admit.
We didn’t know that. We just had enough.
But worry not about what we have done
or said, once I am dead. When I am gone.
It was so worth it to have known your love.