The thin line between love and hate…is anger

I shouldn’t be jealous, but I am

I shouldn’t think of hot scalding acid, of skin like candle wax;

and yet, I am

I should not think of sadness, the  loneliness of  solitude,

locked up in the gilded palace of your own home

too afraid to venture out,

afraid of the world taking pity on your sudden ugliness.

I should not think of making you curse every sunrise and every moon set

I should not desire your dread of every day’s onset

I should not so keenly feel the desire to see you off the end of a hyacinth rope in the town square.

But alas, I am.

Perhaps you should have taken better care with my heart.