...and what do I talk of jealousy- possessing and full of visions? That which you seek but can't have?
Someone else's goods.
Your misery gifted them their luck.
You'd always treat it better- because you never had what they took for granted over time.
You'd always fantasize about owning it- it never was yours.
And that object that has been thwarted by the owner, and still wills not to be owned by you- that kills you with its disregard of your want.
Jealousy, that pounces at you from between the pages, through fumes emerging from the dark corners of the room- like termites festering on wood- eating the insides first.