That is my sin.
I feel the pangs and
electricity of jealousy
whenever I see a happy couple.
I covet their casual grace and
ease. I’m jealous of their quick
loving pecks on the cheek, hand
holding and intimacy of a thousand
little private moments.
I covet their quiet enjoyment
of each other. I’m envious of the
twinkle in their eyes as they look at
each other in some heartfelt moment
and revel in their mutual trust.
I covet their freedom from my
curse. I dream of those moments,
rapt in passion, humor, lust, desire,
the heat of some kind of love I don’t
even know that I’d recognize anymore.
I covet their innocence of passion.
I take it out on them. I imagine their
ruination, the drunken, screaming 2:00 am fight in
front of the drive-way over some burned
waffles and a mysterious text from “Sally”.
I covet their ability to overcome whatever
scenario I imagine about them.
I am replete with sinister grudges at the
happiness I believe I am entitled and disappointed
because I know I am entitled to nothing.
I covet the times when I didn’t know about
loss, hurt, the pains of patience, broken hearts,
the confused anger with those that found their
complimentary person. It is truly my sin.