The first dictator,
      the founder.
The blood of a would be
      god.
But all this mighty knowledge
      is meaningless.
With you here.
      And me in Roma,
            44 B.C.
But I am here.
      Next to you,
            and you’ll never know.
How I think about the
      war in my mind
            with the space
between you and me.
But thus is my curse.
      Stuck at the strategy table.
            Moving the dark pieces in an
                  attempt to bring
you
    closer
to         me.
I wish I was Caesar,
            or Augustus,
                  or Alexander.
So my battle plans
      could be as sound,
      could be as powerful,
      could be as triumphant.
So I could conquer this intolerable space.
      To touch your face,
      To kiss your lips,
      To press my body against yours,
      To feel our hearts touch.
But it will never happen.
      For fortune favors the bold.
            And I like Cassius:
                  I am a coward.
But maybe one day
      I’ll be Caesar.
            And you’ll be mine.