Emotion Writing

Jealous

There is a feeling in my chest. My heart is pounding. Yet, I am not lost in the world of fear. I am not squeamish about something raw. I am feeling, but I am not sure what it is. Every time I look over there.
I think it's a sense of want, not need, but a want. It's a helpless want. Helpless enough to not entreat for help but to need it. Helpless enough for each heartstring to play a melody of a ballad, not a bitter one but a love one, an entirety of passion. This melody plays when I look there.
There, a place. There is a few feet away but it's not here, it's there. It holds the thing making my mouth dry, the thing that makes me shift, the thing my soul is drawn to. The thing that stays there is what makes my heart play its song. The song of pounding, the song of love.
There is a fellow, that is the cause of this all. He makes the drum of my soul beat loudly as it does. He makes me shift and tremble at the sight of him. It's a weird feeling and I hate yet love it, I crave however despise it! How can I have this when my mind is always working, struggling to figure this game called life with school, work or even home! He shouldn't have slipped into my mind. How is it that this feeling can occur when it's unwanted? How can I continue to move forward when I feel my strings play the soft melody of love even when my mind wants to play the harmony of life?
Then a though uprises in my clouded thoughts. "You can move past it."
That's the plan!
I've stuck to this plan for about a year now, it's not working. The feeling is still here, I can't shake it. Time hasn't moved it seems as I walk these halls. The seasons have changed along with others but mine. Mine has stayed, I can't move. I am in a pit of tar, slowly sinking in quicksand, drowning in my own thoughts.

Fuck.

Years have passed. I am long gone. My body has been buried 6 feet under. All because of the emotions I felt. Now, now I'm here, left to be haunted by the emotions that have killed me. The noose's rope marks are still stinging. I can't shake the feeling.
    There remains a feeling in my chest. My heart continues pounding. Yet, I am lost in the world of fear. I am squeamish about something raw. I am feeling, but I am not sure what it means. Every time I glance over there.
I think it's a sense of desire, not demand, but a craving. It's a weak wish. Invalid enough to not beg for help but to require it. Dependent enough for each heartstring to play a tune of a story, not a painful one but a lone, bittersweet one, an entirety of emotion. This melody plays when I look there.
There, stands a man. Who is standing in the pouring rainfall. His suit soaked in tears and rain. His face as cold as a winter's night. The tears fall from his eyes run down his cheeks. They fall to the grave. My grave.
"All you've found was heartbreak and misery," His voice finally gives through the tightness of his throat.
He moves and sets a single rose onto the ground above my resting body. He lets out a sigh as if it is his last breath. He raises his hand to his face and wipes the tears that fall. His body turns and leaves, fading into the endless rain.
All I could do was watch him go. My feeling never leaves, my own tears fall as my last words, "It's hard for me to say, I'm jealous of the way. You're happy without me."

- Inspired by Labrinth