Substance

"Everything I touch dies." You whispered, tears in your eyes. "Then I'd love to die," I took your hand. "In your arms." "Why would you want that?" You asked. "I'm a bad person." "Just because we do bad things," I shook my head. "Doesn't mean we're bad people." "I am a bad person, because I do bad things." You nodded. "Then I'm the worst." I sighed. "But you're not." You closed your eyes. "You're the best." You were so beautiful then. But some people are just beautiful people. Not in the way they look. Not in what they say. Just in the way they are. And you were one of those people. I just hope you know that, because I won't be around to tell you anymore.