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Green Eyed Monster
I am a green eyed monster.
Jealousy has eaten me alive.
I watch you, perfect you, confident you, beautiful you.
As green eyes shine throughout the night.
You wore born with a gift, you are assured. You shine so bright, you could be a star. Brilliant, talented, a true work of art. I am nothing as I follow in your shadow. But one day, I achieve success. I achieve happiness, through a gift I call my own. I invite you to try it, figuring you could use more happiness in this life of yours.
But you steal all of mine away,
And the green eyed monster comes back to play.
Watching your beauty, watching their love, watching your good luck, watching your confidence. Watching you float, on clouds of your happiness, wishing I could be, a bit more like you.
With green eyes I watch, my happiness dieWith green eyes I watch, and with green eyes I cry
Bridges
The bench is cold beneath her feet as she stands, shoulders tall, looking on into the distance. Sounds surround her, but the world is devastatingly silent. Onlookers stare at her, clearly questioning her sanity. But she does not hear or notice them, does not give them a glance. Children who pass are cautioned, stay away from the psychopath. But still she stands there, for hours at a time, simply searching, hoping she will find what it is she is looking for, until it catches her desperate, pleading, blue eyes.
To them she is the crazy, the lost, the girl that must be avoided. Yet clearly, she is the most interesting sight on this crowded bridge. It is if she does not feel them here, as if the one she is looking for is invisible, one of a different kind. Or maybe it is that WE are invisible. To get inside this girls head is what I truly long for.
Me. The artist with the pencil. Watching her. Waiting for her to make a move. Each day she stands there, and she has, more than once, caught my thoughtful eye. Her’s is a story, a story that can rarely be written. I am mesmerized by this girl, and I wish that just once, her eyes would meet mine. That she would stop looking, stop watching, and realize that she does not need a story… for she already is one.
A thought occurs to me as I watch her. Maybe I could introduce myself? It would not be a challenge to walk up to her, to admire her more closely. Here is where I blend in, where her eye cannot see me. I fear her glance, I fear she would know that I am not worthy enough of her attention. I consider the pros and the pros and the cons, wondering aimlessly whether or not I should simply get this
over with. If I’ve learned anything in life, it is that admiring from afar will get you nowhere. But I’ve also learned the hard way that sometimes, people aren’t as special, kind, and downright amazing as they seem. Sometimes they will only become letdowns, who are merely judgmental and will never meet the expectations you had of them.
