Timothy! You scoundrel, you!

Jealousy did not make me light with wings like love;
It coursed as led through my readied veins,
Pink as tinge of insecurity,
Morose with bold flashes of fury
That spring on me as spring does the earth:
So suddenly.
When I see you with her I’m just calamity,
And I know its ripe with only insanity,
But its just enough for me,
I know its surely
Enough for you.
Her arm near yours, your smile for her;
I’m blatant at erasing every cure you were for my own pain,
Drilling them back into my skull,
Until they throb at even your
First name.
I cannot fathom what you dearly mean,
But I know just one is true.
I cannot face you right now,
I would only say: “Fuck you.”
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