Jealousy Is

Jealousy is when one looks away; and then it's at your back again. you feel the long string off the harp again that it played. And if i can not kiss those lips, why can't I, should I not? The large head, upon my slim neck, you said, I remember it all. Quite noises you make with him are the same, I'm not deaf. Your forests deep path upon which we talked, does he know? And your face is too hot and my cup is so full and for yours, I wait. His sun is not yellow like mine, but his wine is your will.