Where the Green Embers Never Die (After the Sun)

When the warmth leaves my body, something else burns inside og me. Not painful, or at least- not starting painful; gradual yet strong. It does not roar like fire, nor does it consume me all at once. It sits quietly beneath my ribs, glowing in the dark like a bed of green embers, flickering whenever I see something I wish were mine. 

I try to ignore it. I bury it deep within; beneath distraction, laughter, and those familiar words, "I'm happy for them." Of course I'm happy for them; why wouldn't I be? But the embers remain. Sometimes they dim, almost disappearing entirely, only to flare up again when I see someone living the life I wish were mine. 

I hate how they glow. I hate how something so beautiful can feel so ugly inside of me.

I wonder if those embers know what they are doing to me. If they understand that I never asked them to burn, I would've never asked such a thing. That I never wanted to measure my worth against another one's happiness. But every time someone laughs a little louder, achieves something I long for, the embers grow. They shift beneath my ribs, glowing brighter, releasing tiny sparks that crawl through my chest.

I hate how it makes me look at other people's happiness and wonder why it can't be mine. I hate how something so beautiful in someone else's life could become something so painful inside my own.

And yet, I can't put it out.

Tonight, I sit alone with them, only them, no one else; nothing else.

I watch their little green flames dance in the darkness of my chest where the warmth used to be. For once, I don't pretend they're not there.

Perhaps they aren't monsters. Perhaps they are simply the remains of wishes I never speak aloud, dreams I have always watched from afar, and pieces of myself I constantly leave behind.

Still, they hurt.

I wonder how long I would have to carry this little green fire before I can finally learn to let it glow without it consuming me.

For now, I sit with my Envy.

A thousand glowing green embers, burning quietly where my heart is supposed to be, full of warmth and fullness.