I’m not a jealous person. 
But sometimes that gross little monster 
comes into my body without asking first.
He eats me alive but saves the skin for last. 
He starts in my stomach and he fills up my lungs. 
He’s brutal and he hurts me. I kind of like it. 

I met him again at this party. 
It’s funny because I remember coming here with our friends, 
but now I’m standing all alone. 
He corners me and tells me to look at you. 
With her. I didn’t want to come here. 
I go to the middle of the room and I dance with my jealousy. 
It’s your favorite song. I know all the words. 
I used to listen to it on repeat. 
For you, but then for me. It’s a good song. 
It makes me think of you, but I don’t want to. 
So I sing louder. I dance faster. 
I let my jealousy take me.
Someone get me another drink. 
Turn this music up. 

I wake up early and alone. I don’t get hungover. 
I check my phone and listen to your favorite song. 
Not for you. It’s just a good song. 

I see her and she sees me:
Scantily dressed, shivering cold.
Exhausted, terrified.
As Gabriel stood before her, 
now she stands before me—
Her longing eyes looking upward,
Her beautiful fingers pointed upward
to the walls of heavenly Jerusalem.
I stare; my shorts too short, neckline too low.
I fall and let my knees touch the stone floor;
its cold and I can’t help but shake.
The chapel is full of tourists, 
but suddenly I don’t know—
It’s only me and the organ and the virgin.