before i die would you tell me you loved me?
would you tell me that i mean more to you than a piece of paper with a grade?
that i am not just the woman who was behind the counter at the bookstore?
that i was not just another musician in the orchestra?
that i am not defined by my showing up each night and doing a great job as stage manager?
that i am not defined by my terrible skill at being a perfectionist?
that i am not simply a singer of latin music in a chamber?
that i am not defined by how my day is going?
that i am not defined by a question as stupid as “how are you doing”?
before i die would you tell me you loved me?
can you please tell me while i am still living?
can you tell me who i am and not what i am?
can you not ask me what you can do for me, but tell me who i am to you?
can you please combat these lies that i don’t know where they come from but they always do?
can you not be my savior, but can you remind me of who is?
before i die, while i am still living can you be human?
can you please love me while i breathe and not only express regret if i died?
before i die would you tell me you loved me?
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