I have tasted jealousy. I have been served jealousy in cut glass flirtations & fancy silverware. I’ve been slipped jealousy, hidden inside sweaty palms & in backhand insults. I’ve thrown back jealousy spiked into distractions like a worm at the bottom of a shot glass. And I’ve cut jealousy into bite-sized pieces of pop psychology & skewered it up on forks of good manners.
It never tastes good. No matter how much you disguise it in fancy poetry, woke terminology or seduction.It’s a nasty smell assaulting the brain & making the eyes run when one really needs clear sight, a clear head and yes, a clear heart. It’s the bitter aftertaste when one is seeking the sweetness of connection. It makes you question the worth of what you let into your being.But maybe it is also the detergent that scrubs you free of the illusions you had about yourself. It eats away at the dirty bits that clog your sore places. And makes them smart & sting all over again. It’s a reminder that you also need a strong stomach to partake of the messy smorgasbord that is life & loving.
Remember then that not all that is bitter is medicine. And anything that isn’t good for you must eventually be purged from your being. Maybe bile can be a friend, warning you of diversions that must be corrected so they stay interesting experiences & not festering poison. Maybe jealousy is served up in what is best a last supper, a toast goodbye.
But no one can tell what the next meal will taste like. The point is to keep feasting. Some days are a diet, some days are a feast and some days may have to be a purge.
*Read my other Love Poetry. Or listen to it.