Jealousy, what a nasty thing. I was asked to describe it.
Jealousy is when another little girl takes your doll. It's the first time you have a crush, and you see another kiss him on the playground. It's when you look at the other girls and compare yourself. You simply cannot stand to be in your own skin. You want, no, need to be them, to be like them, to be with them.
Jealousy is when you're never quite good enough. There's always that smart kid that shows you up in class, always someone with better grades. When you were almost valedictorian, but someone else got it by one fourth of grade point.
It's when you fall in love and you watch them walk away. It's never enough. The summer before college and your high school sweet heart is going out of state for college, and so are you, but somewhere else. You never thought you could be jealous of place.
It's when you're with your friends and they don't listen to you talk, and they don't notice when you no longer talk. When you're the one alone on the side walk.
Jealousy is your heart, slowly turning dark as the happiness of other peoples' lives dance by, because for you, nothing was ever good enough. Not even yourself.

here's how it happens
the morning after
you reach into the drawer
where the your t-shirts live
to find it austere
you'll shrug because
you're still drunk
& you can't remember
when last it was
that you had something wet
or how long it's been
since you made the floorboards blush
or why the carpet is upset
who wouldn't be
the contents to the upended ashtray
strewn around the apartment
resemble the aftermath
of the smallest war
to ever take place in norfolk
some midnight thief
must've made off with the lighter
because it isn't in
any of your favorite spots
maybe you chucked it
along with a hundred other things
that make noise when they land
in the neighbors yard
you won't remember putting
the refrigerator's belongings
in the bathtub
or scrawling a buzzard
on the bedroom door
but then again who would
you'll pretend it's spring again
before putting on your winter coat
to go out front with a cigarette
in your mouth
you'll hope for a passing stranger
to *** a light from
or drag yourself to the corner
with couch cushion change
to buy a new lighter
and on your way
you won't bother looking back
this is just another day
on eggshells for no reason
another november
choking on birthday candles
on your way home
you step over beer cans
the kind you fell in love with
and wonder who
had the last laugh last night
or if anyone said a word at all
it might've been another
moment of clarity
it might have been some idiot savant
any adjective that feels like home
anything that keeps you thirsty

"you like him."
she said it like it was a statement, not a question.
"uh...not really?"
I tried to be nonchalant, convincing.
"you do. I can see it in your eyes.
when you feel like no one's looking,     you look at him
and absorb all his features, and the smallest of smiles appears on your face.
and when he is looking-at you in specific-
your whole face glows. it's like he's the sun,
and you temporarily share all his warmth and light.
it's beautiful."