Photo by: My big sis

The True Story of Cleopatra

Taking off all jilted gold,
No scarred silver to seduce.
Her bare feet walk upon the sand.
The imprint is unclear.
What now?
Where love, pride and hope is concerned.
Can she be immortalised?
No. She cannot. All cannot be maintained.
Our gilded butterflies remain.
She looks up,

knowing what will come.
The whispers of a story.
The tales of seduction, of pride, of ignorance!
If only she could be forgotten.
No one should be deformed in memory.
Softly her eyes spiral towards the sand.

"What now?"