Cleopatra
I always wondered why the boys made such a fuss,
Why men swooned as she walked by,
Simps stalking her socials like bees to nectar,
And why the betas discussed her in hushed circles.
Cleopatra,
I encountered her the other night,
Our eyes locked under the crimson traffic lights.
She slipped me a note with her number,
We met on Tuesday, the very next day—
Smooth, I must say, was my operation that night.
Cleopatra,
The girl the boys made a big deal of,
The damsel I dined with effortlessly,
The one men thirsted after,
The wench I drank with till dawn.
Yes, smooth was my operation that night.
Cleopatra,
I found, was marred with undeniable insecurities.
Was it her nose piercing? The tattoo on her arm?
The scar on her brow, her body?
So many questions.
But I uncovered what many men had missed—
Operating smoothly, that's my way.
Cleopatra,
The girl many thirsted for,
Fought for, and died for,
Was far from their corrupted ideal.
Cleopatra,
I found, was a vampire, a nymphomaniac,
A sorority girl filled with jealousy and contempt,
Haunted by her past lover's accomplishments,
Monkey-branching, cock-blocking,
A horrendous gossip, with daddy issues.
I uncovered the book, read its pages, understood its subject.
"I'm not impressed," I said
As I closed the door of my Chevy behind her.
Why, you certainly know what I'm about to say!
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