Guilty

I stare and long and whine,
look at those pretty clothes,
look at that pretty face,
look at her lover.

I stare and long and whine
why are my curves all wrong?
why doesn’t the light kiss my face as it does for her?
why don’t I get grand declarations of love amidst the ocean?

I stare and long and whine
conjecturing that ‘her’ life is perfect,
questioning why mine is so dreary
imagining the shine and sparkle that should be.

I stare and long and whine,
flicking through my phone,
lying on his arm, in the gloom of my witlessness.