she is my cleopatra

the queen of denial, the lily of my mind’s eye

i would erect the pyramids for her to give her shade, reroute the river water for her to bathe

break my back to make her dreams come true

i think she knows it

she is my marie antoinette

my luscious croissant

her buttery thighs, and pouty lips

i would fend off the unwashed hoardes of peasants from fouling her precious space, single handedly slaughter an entire class to make her feel safe

i hope she sees this

she is my mona lisa, my famed epitome of beauty

my marilyn monroe, my nefertiti, my juliet, my queen, my goddess, my everything

i would anoint her with oils, massage her every inch

i would drive two states over to get her a slice of pie if she craved it

pluck the moon from the sky as a necklace, the stars for glitter in her hair

go to antarctica to get her the purest ice

to the peak of mount everest and bottle the sweetest air

through the amazon to get her a bouquet of the freshest blossoms

for she is my inspiration

the song that haunts my every dream

i would do anything

but know how to show it to her

so i don’t

just love her from afar

worship her as the goddess she is without sullying her grace with my clumsy idiosyncratics

as she deserves

she knows

maybe