I want the vengeance
of Cleopatra-- her
sultry Egyptian walk
sweet-- dripping like ambrosia
clinging to the crevices of
her bosom-- tracing
allusions of her perfection
drawing men-- with cold consciouses
boys-- with fervent loins
to row frantically through
seas-- that spit storms and bring forth tears
just to suck the salty sweat--
beads beckoning from her pouting lips
only to find that serpents
slithered in and stole man's place--
coiled in the warmth of her breast
striking up the venom of envy
far fiercer than what her body--
mortal and fragile
quivering with blood--
promised to their hollow hearts.
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