Jealousy

I am not a jealous man,

But my flesh burns as you embrace him.

 

I am not an angry man,

But this jealousy makes me so.

 

I promised to never yell,

Nor raise an uncaring hand.

But anger is the weak man’s spell.

 

You anger me,

And you color my skin with jealousy.

Yet I am the name you whisper,

With unfaithful lips,

As you speak of bruises upon guilty cheeks.

 

Your friends and foes

Make me to be a monster.

Yet I was once the heroic man

You sought after with infinite lust and passion.

 

No, I am not a jealous man.

No, I am not an angry man.

 

My only sin was loving that which soils me.

My only sin is loving you with a sentiment

That far exceeds the longing of breath itself.

 

As you caress him with shameful hands,

I lie awake,

Smothered beneath novel jealousy and anger.

 

How many nights must I endure this lonely bed?

This lonely bed which fumes your erotic smell.

One more night,

Before these sullen hands may strip my faithful lips of their vile breath.