Melancholy of Jealousy (I)

Jealousy is a great shapeshifter.

The first-time life introduced me to jealousy,
I was not ready.

People said jealousy is green, but all I saw was red;
My hands in a fist, my lips sealed tight — I was mad.
Jealousy appeared before me, in the candour of anger.

The second time jealousy greeted me,
I felt something that wasn’t there before:
Jealousy was violet.
It was warm as well as cold — it wasn’t all that bad.

Jealousy can be a sign of deep-rooted affection.

The third time, jealousy shapeshifted in front of me,
It caressed me in green
I told myself, “This is it, the final form of jealousy.”
It was so ugly, I had to pretend it was not there, in front of me.

But it was gone, so soon,
With a touch, an assurance, and a soft caress.

Jealousy is a sickness.

The fourth time jealousy came knocking on my door,
I was sure it wasn’t me it was looking for.
I’ve felt anger, I’ve felt pride, I’ve felt sickness.

But nobody ever told me,
That jealousy can be sad too.

Jealousy can be so sad I started to doubt you.

The thought of not being your beginning,
And the incapability to forecast your last
Where am I in your chapter?

Jealousy is now the sinking feeling in my stomach,
Telling me I’m not good enough.