I’m jealous of every hand you’ve held. And lips you’ve kissed. And every secret you’ve told. I’m jealous of everyone who has loved you before. I’m jealous of every person who’s had the privilege of having their heart broken by you. I’m jealous. Because I wish I was the first. The first hand you held. The first lips you kissed. The first secret you held. The first person you truly loved. The first person who’s heart you broke. I wish I was the first. But I wasn’t.