Sometimes I hate her.  
I hate that she was able to make you fall in love with her,
And I can barely get you to fall into bed with me.
I envy the fact that she got to experience that you,
The you that was affectionate,
The you that was happy,
The you that loved back.
I get jealous sometimes too, that she still effects you.
That her actions still make an impact.
I'm jealous that you still care about her,
In a way you will never care about me.
But I don't really hate her, I just hate that I love you,
And you still love her.