After us.
He became scorn.
He never looked more beautiful.
I thought him lucky, to have that.

I only felt something lukewarm.
My indifference made me plain.

I wanted that passion instead of this boredom.
He got all the longing, the ache, the poets disease.

I shared my thoughts, my truth with him.
He only flamed brighter as a result ….. so ******* gorgeous.

I am envy.
Much better than apathy.