Jealousy rips through my being as I sit in the silence.
Your love is not for me,
No why would it be?
You have saved it for her,
Set it aside.
To you her face is golden,
Mine is a blur.
Why then, do you taunt me with pretty verses
And pity looks too.
Do not save up looks for me.
Spend them on her while she still looks at you.
Love is a fickle mistress.
And will leave when she chooses.
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