\n I love you, but I can’t touch you.
\n I love you, but I can’t be with you.
\n Why? I’m a dead man walking,
\n Get too close, and you’re a dead woman talking.
\n AIDS is what it’s called.
\n That’s a joke if I ever heard one.
\n AIDS? Aids what, exactly?
\n Aids death? Aids misery? Aids anything but the two of us?
\n I love you, but I can’t love you.
\n I love you, so I won’t hurt you.
\n So, as I lie here, looking in your green eyes,
\n Diagnosed with “Terminal Pneumonia,”
\n I stroke my fingers through your red hair,
\n I have the strength to say one thing.
\n “Goodbye,”
\n Gathering tears make your eyes sparkle as you smile.
\n “Not ‘Goodbye.’ ‘See you later.’ I’m not immortal, you know.”
\n A light chuckle escapes me as my vision starts to blur.
\n Just before the breathing machine starts beeping,
\n I hear you say one last thing to me,
\n “I love you.”
\n The world goes quiet. Everything turns black,
\n And I leave my body, leaving you behind.
\n But I don’t leave forever.
\n I will see you again, my love.
\n