Envy

he sees the guy with the new car,

and his blood starts to boil.

she sees the other one wasp waist,

cat eyes,

and her smile twists sideways.

they don’t say it,

don’t admit it,

but hell,

envy is a long nailed beast

that crawls inside you

and won’t let you sleep.

he tells himself the guy cheated,

no one wins clean.

she mutters that beauty like that is fake,

something must be broken in her.

envy,

that slow poison

that dresses up as critique,

as judgment,

as “I don’t need that shit.”

but everyone wants it.

everyone wants what they don’t have.

the skin, the money, the applause,

the easy life.

he looks at her,

she looks at him,

and for a second

they hate each other for no reason,

just because the other one

seems to have

what they’re missing.

envy doesn’t care about gender.

it slips into heels and boots,

offices and beds,

and it smiles

while it hollows you out

from the inside.

and hell,

brother,

hell isn’t down there.

hell is looking at someone

and not being able

to stand what you see.