I’m jealous of the ones you see every day. The ones who’s eyes meet yours at fate’s command. I bet they don’t know how lucky they are.
I’m jealous of the air in your lungs. It’s closer than I could ever be. I bet it doesn’t realise that as it courses through your blocked passages. Maybe it’s even mad at the resistance it meets as it gives you life.
What about those that you choose. I bet they don’t know that some are unacceptable, rejects.
Even more the ones you choose to love and care for, but don’t choose you back. I’m most jealous of them. Because they don’t know how it feels to feel it. Perhaps they would spare you.
The ground you walk on. The ground that trips you up to a fall sometimes, I bet it doesn’t know. It may be more careful then. To hold you steady and cushion your sandals.
The contact lenses that strengthen your sight don’t know they have the best job. To remove the scales from your eyes. Give you a perspective that causes clarity.
I know I know. I’m unqualified.
Inspired by Jealous by Labrinth