Damon And Pythias

Excellence Award in the 'Poetry & Short Story Writing Competition 2020' competition

I formed myself into a hostage like clay; I may right so befall.
Mine own defect persists, when plaintiff Dionysius ejaculates his gall,
The tyrant testifies you’ve forgotten me,
Or that you never loved me at all.
Is this taut text true, Pythias?
“Words from serpent’s tongues do not hold,” I cry,
But sincerely, I do ponder; “Am I to die?”
I do not want to be here.
I do not want to be wasted in your place instead of by your side,
I must refuse to give in to this blanket of wretch despair; I will never hide.
For you are noble; my brave Pythias; you are my sheath.
May the Gods be on our facet forthwith.
I almost assume, hearing the wind like a muse through the bars’ teeth,
I give ears to gentle whispers; see our forms folded in aphrodite’s myth.
History will call you my friend,
But, I will always call you lover.

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