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“I see our love as that which compares to theology. For I with you makes for the destruction of all that is of ruin to this Earth. You, my brother, my idol. For if not of your presence would my existence be nothing more than a curse. How your being, side by my own is a gift sent from he himself. Oh how I thank thee, Eros, for without his generosity, living would be paradoxical. If we were that of such standards, high above thy earth, far from our brethren. Looking upon all, none who compare to ourselves. You, my lover, will have I stand, always, aside you. For if it was us who ruled upon thy beings, Called in similarity to He, Zeus, Her, Athena. With love replacing that which brings belief. I would fear not of being that of a martyr, for I would preach that which we have until thy vocal cords wither to eternal silence. My love, Alexander, please show me how thee feel for I. Show thy heart that filled with my presence, bleeds, aches, dies every waking moment in which you inch farther from me. Love me without shame. For shame kills all that of passion which resides within us both.”He stands before me. His bright blue orbs, a liquidy mess, filling with that which signifies sorrow.
He looks to me with a pleading gesture. He had spoken his confession, for I have not yet processed his request. Only, his request is that which I'm abundantly familiar with.
He who speaks orates words comparable to those of my own. Thoughts of his, find no difference with those of mine.
As I grab for his hands, thoughts of consequence cloud my judgment. Ascetic, have I been, withdrawing from any such impulsivity that would lead to exile. A schism, as one would call that which be thy outcome of prohibitable love.
“Oh Hephaestion, how my reverence for thee clouds any such flaws that reside within you. Your beauty, that which surpasses any who have gone before I, stuck in thy caverns of my mind. For when thee is before I, sight of that which you flaunt has such power over my restraint. Standing within thy cosmopolitan, would thee be only that which I see.. That which I Hear.. That which I Desire. If acceptance of that which differs from norm existed within the minds of our people, would desire of mine, that of our love, be perched just as all do for those up above. I, cohesive to you, already we be that of analogous status, but more is what I yearn for. For I see that which you crave. Us above as those we believe upon. An endless aggregate of eternal devotion, passed from one being to thy equal. Eternal Love in which suffocated by shame, breaks free. I am in requirement to he before me, just as thy man who speaks such truth requires I.”
Waning not are his tears, but for his sorrow has begun to dissipate. I too, feel that which he is vividly expressing. The grip in which I hold of him strengthens, aiding I as I pull he who stands before me closer.
I inch towards him, my lips finding his ear. My words are laced with softness, only that which he will hear.
“He who stands before thee has no desire stronger than that which resides within him to cultivate he who speaks in confession.”
Rather than expression through words, my lips that find his own, express furtherly that which I truly long for.
He moves in a rhythm that matches my own, signifying his similar hunger.
Autonomous, that which we will be, disregarding all that which has morality, replacing it with utter predilection.
I, thy autocrat of Macedonia will have any that which I desire. No man below I will stand upon thee and tell me otherwise.