It's called jealousy, my dear. The poison that flows through your veins, the crooked eyebrows and dark cloud above you. The arrow that pierced through your chest, the tear that you hid away.
-It's jealousy.
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Things I Wish I Could Tell You (Poetry and Prose)
PoetryI look at you with empty eyes from across the crowdy room. I never spoke when I was with you, and for a long time I hid from that quiet disguise. Little did you know I cried under the rain, and I sang with our song. When I'm alone I think of you, I...
