Envious is I

a prose poem

I envy every pair of eyes that meets your serene gaze in my stead. I envy the sun that tingles your skin from the high skies. I envy the moon and stars you look to for soothing comfort. I envy every petal your tender hands caress with gentle admiration. I envy the gold necklace that rests on your neck. I envy the comb that loosens your hair in my fingers’ stead. I envy my tongue that whispers your name in the deep of my sleep. I envy the bookshops that sets your inner child aloose once you step in them. I am envious of the worries that plague your blessed mind in my stead. I am envious of every scare that quickens your heartbeat in my stead. I am envious of the sweetener you put in your tea that softens your mornings in my stead. I am envious of the bead bracelet you supplicate with in my fingers’ stead. I am envious of the angel that bears witness to the good deeds you perform in quiet. I am most envious of the man with a face that resembles mine—living the lushness of life with you, even if only in the depths of my imagination.

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