i think i've realized
the ballads of your virtues
do not do you justice.
details of your murders
twisted to be heroic.
i pride myself in remembering things
no one else knows
like
how sweetly you sung
the softness of your cheek
the way your laugh bubbled up inside, infectious.
i am glad to have those memories for myself
call me selfish
but you were always
my achilles

-love, patroclus