I'm jealous.
Jealous of our past,
our honeymoon phase,
our gaze, your graze, smell, taste.
How your eyes smiled,
How my knees weakened.
I'm jealous.
Jealous of the euphoria,
the "could be's".
The choices we probably made or didn't in an alternate reality.
I'm sorry but it's hard.
Hard to stay present.
Be, present.
And It is hard.
Hard to dream, and imagine.
Now that there is no muse,
It's all wishy-washy.
It's even harder to look.
Look at me...
Look at you...
Look at us...
But that's because It's a version of us we dislike.
So I look for what was.
What could have been?
That's when I realize I'm jealous.
Jealous of me...
Jealous of you...
Jealous of us...
Eden...
YOU ARE READING
TALES OF EDEN
PoetryA place where voiceless stories, anxieties, traumas, struggles, fights and victories are echoed.
