As if I couldn't be more envious of your perfect sky.
Or how your eyes align with remnants of the sun.
And not just any sun,
On Sundays when that golden dusk comes so late.
The last hour of night looks like fire works
crashing at the end of the ocean.
Intolerant of your reddish warm scent,
set to cause any blood ******* thing
to parish in his love for you.
It truly causes my begrudgingly mind to ponder.
It is no wonder that I am jaundiced
by your ability to capture mans heart
in your florescent sap.
Oh Amber,
Free me from my jealous behavior.
Deem me not zealous,
but in favor of your yellowish center
fixed in oldeander,
my sweet, sweet amber.