A poem #66 – Jealousy

Honey, it’s jealousy that’s poisoning the well,
and I’m pouring it in by the pint.
And with every sip I take,
the more prone we are to fight.
But it’s in your bones and in your feet,
when you’re moving all night long.
You always leave me grasping,
at the parts of you that have gone.
You burn all night with the neon lights
you so wholeheartedly adore,
smashing me into pieces,
and scattering them on the floor.

JP Collins

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