This doesn’t even feel bad anymore. Took the last bite of the cake—sweet victory melting on my tongue.
She tried to hide her glee, but darling, how do you conceal a win so grand? Got the man, got the crown—tell me, which other side can boast of that?
In admittance, the crown tilts, albeit just a little off-center, a queen's weight shifting beneath it.
A quick readjustment—smack the dust off her blouse, lift the chin, sharpen the stance.
Lipless mouths running loose, but let them talk—they always do.
Here, woman!—strut, sway, ruse to the beat.
Where kings and queens command, seaside nights humming with power. Golden tides, high standards, no apologies. Only the fit will reign.