Lament of the Aristos Akhaio

His fragile frame spills scarlet still warmed by the fervency of his love Love never to be betrayed further Stolen from me in his naive pursuit of a modus vivendi Between my alcove in his heart and his virtuous morality We spoke so often of immortality Of eternal legacies of splendor While your lulling warmth obscured its austere nature But now my hands are stained with carmine life And my aureate tresses are dull with guilt I am Aristos Akhaio, the best of men yet i pale in the face of your magnificence Doomed to a fleeting hope for mortal life and glory When you were all I ever truly longed for Even in death you watch me Not in reverence but adoration Your shrouded figure etched into my recollection But sadistically lost to me forevermore Glory befits the strong Or so i once heard But I never sought glory of any name but yours Broken down into 3 syllables sobbed into the air You were never your fathers' glory but to me you are everything My only life, my only legacy, my only love And my strength was stolen by the whisper of your broken breath