Envy rhymes with hate but envy is not hate. It slips on itself a mask, slips the rope behind its ears and the plastic over its face but it's still not hate.
I envy you. I envy you so deeply and powerfully that I want to carve it into myself, to let the flesh know that the mind is suffering. And I want what you've got. Because you've got everything and I'll be damned if you don't know it. You're wonderful and I don't understand why.
I don't hate you, but I envy you and it doesn't feel any different. I tripped and fell for what you have, slipped and clawed but you held on, grasped it in your hands, and I want your skin to break and I want you to bleed but you won't. You can't because you have what I want and it keeps you safe. I know if you let it slip like purple-silver silk between your fingers I'd catch it. I'd catch it and I wouldn't think I hated you anymore.
So let it slip. Stumble for me and let me have it. Let it float against my fingertips and I promise I won't hate you. Let the