Envy

Your mind weaves you a blanket of lies,
whispers the secrets you expected to hear.
Scenes painted on your envious eyes,
illustrations of the story you’ve written for yourself,
brushstrokes of a crumbled imagination.
You gorge yourself on possibilities you know are poison,
but you feel so empty, so hollow,
and you can’t stop swallowing.
You try to remember the sound of reason,
but all you can hear is the beating of your greedy heart.
You push away the hunger,
the hostility crawling into your lungs,
but you cannot hold back this wanting.
You beg yourself to stop, but you can’t tear your eyes away,
your mind a display of picture-perfect jealousy.
You reach out for a last bit of sanity,
but your hands have become claws, 
and they slip.
You look in the mirror.
Someone else looks back.