Jealousy

Ever so often, she lifts her veil

To speak to me of the world outside.

Her words are harsh and her fingers cold

as they point to the mountains which others have scaled.

In the clarity of her face,

I see what I am, and all that I’m not.

She does not need to point to my hole in the ground

For that’s where I crawl when her beauty is too much to bear.

(I really should be studying. :))