Cleopatra, a vision draped in gold and shadow,
eyes painted dark as the Nile's midnight flow,
lips curving with secrets
whispered to power,
each glance a promise, each word a silken snare.

She moves as a storm hidden in silks,
her beauty a veil over cunning
that glitters sharp,
a queen crowned in mysteries,
born of the sun,
yet wielding darkness as her chosen weapon.

Kings fall like sand at her feet,
lured by the shimmer of jewels
and scent of lotus,
unknowing they thread into her web
where beauty and betrayel entwine like vines.