Jealousy

Jealousy. That's all I had left in my eyes. She walked up, laughing. Her appeal was oozing out of her every pore as you chatted her up.

Her every quirk you didn't miss. I saw you stare at her lips. The red color flashing you a harmless smile. But was she really that harmless?

Flirt, could that word not only be delicate while I try to clear the image. All those secrets, whispers. They're meant for me. I want to get possessive. I want to throw up up the wall and scream that I own you.

Jealousy, be the death of me. I give what I have left behind. So when you look around next morning I want you to kiss her. Because the blood on her lips is as sour as mine