To my monstrous love –

They have told your story
So many ways now,
And the only thing that does not change
Is how much we loved each other.
In our story,
I always die for you,
And you always die
To be with me.
You are always too proud,
And I am always too slow –
The son of Zeus falls to my borrowed spear,
But I can never outrun Hector.
When they carry my body back to you,
You cry,
And your mother in her deep cold caves
The blue-green graves below the sea,
Hears you and knows
You will follow me, soon.
She wishes for a different story
Than the one she helped to write,
As do we all,
But we were always following each other –
She should have expected nothing less.

Patroclus, to Achilles (via willshakesqueer)