Jealousy

I'm jealous of him because he has her. It makes me want to cry when I see them kissing against the grey cement side of the building. I wish I could be the one hugging her in between classes, smelling her perfume, the sweet fall into delirium. I want to be the one that gets to play with her blond hair, to hold her hand.

It makes me jealous when they kiss in the rain, their hips touching. I want to feel the delicate lines of her neck, to run my fingers along the contour.

The brush of her lips, the touch of her hand, the warmth of her embrace. I am jealous because he knows these things and I do not.