i. if you had died,
and i had lived
the world would know
how i lived to find you,
i’d seek you
out and overturn cities,
topple them to find you;
i’d lose myself in the miles i’ve traveled
(and in time, i’d lose my own memory of you)
how i carved out an empire in your name,
alexandria,
alexandria,
alexandria
(‘alexandria’ echoes in the distance)
her name –
your name
– history, at least, would remember
how i never stopped mourning you,
ii. if you had died,
and i had lived
everyone would
know my (our) story
iii. but you and i both know:
history remembers
the truth that
i died,
and that
you died
with me