I learned to fight for you
Mouths sticky with honey and fig juice
Spears polished in the gleaming sun
Sparkling rivers lined with orange groves
Blood painted the cobblestone and your cheeks
I wiped them away with my thumb
I wanted to lick the blood off your face; pink, wet, and hot
The very foundations of Troy can be erased from existence
The supposed beauty of Helen is sickly compared to your salt-blue
eyes
I long for your lips
The days we spent under orange blossom trees
The nights we spent slick and slippery with olive oil
Bandaging your precious hands from battle
Bronze tipped swords never fared well against you
Armor shining in the sunlight defiant and triumphant
Dipped in the holy river of Death
You could not die
Until you did
Crowned and revered in glory and rage
Turning into your ash
Our names etched in history as the moon and sun