Life is an endless poem unrhymed. Relish its sweetness and crisp, recite or write it as you may.

Bitter jell.

You wanna know what jealousy is?

It is when the people you love are happy without you, when you cannot be without them.
It is knowing that those people’s worlds are theirs, when you, they are your only world.
It is whichever axis you wish to rotate, you want to traverse with their hands locked to yours.
While them, they are drawing, sketching their own lines, forming their own orbits, 
in a galaxy away from yours.

It is wanting to swell up the river with both your tears combined, 
than fill up a happy ocean with only them laughing from across the shoreline.

Jealousy is not forgiving others because they live 
while you die, alone, with ripped heart, your body buried six feet below the cold ground line.

Jealousy is not not having the best stuff others qualm about,
 or being obscured  and being pushed aside while a star is stealing your spotlight.
          
Jealousy is that stabbing pain that does not only pierce your heart, but that breaks your confidence pole and trusting rope.

Jealousy is me dying while living “ours” and you living, just living yours.  

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