Poetry About Jealousy Novels & Stories

He painted every day with mother and he was always so talented. Jane leapt from her chair because of what Lowis had just said. Between those two, it wasn't a love story. Daily, they were spoiling for each other... Well, Jane was looking for Lowis, and Lowis avoided her as much as possible. Once, when we were at the library, Lowis confided to me that Jane was a person who could be jealous sometimes. Not knowing what that meant, I asked Angela to explain it to me, and she told me that jealousy was a feeling of envy towards a someone else who had something that you didn't have and would like to have. In most cases, the jealous person felt hostility, spite or bitterness towards that person. Was

For three seconds, they are standing in that corridor with his hand around hers, the morning moving around them, and I am watching from the parapet with my hand flat on the cold stone and something happening in my chest that I am going to look at directly because I have never been a man who benefits from not looking at things directly. A sharp, possessive pang hits me, a hot spike of something I haven't felt in years. It's jealousy, raw and undiluted. The urge to be down there, to be the one whose hand is on hers, is so strong it's a physical blow. I want to rip his hand away and replace it with my own. It's a thought so primal, so unexpected, that for a second I can't breathe. I clamp down

So I stayed hidden, bleeding, watching the man I paid use the woman I loved like she was his personal fuck toy. I saw her come, hard. Her back arched, mouth open in a silent scream, pussy gushing around his cock. I saw him fill her, thick white cum leaking out of her stretched hole and running down her beautiful thighs. I saw her collapse against his chest, whispering my name like he was me. The jealousy was so deep it felt like my heart was being ripped out and stomped on. I wasn’t just jealous of his cock inside her. I was jealous of the ghost she thought he was. She was giving her body to a lie, and the lie was wearing my face.

It can only mean one thing. My stomach clenches with a sudden, ugly jolt that has nothing to do with fear. It’s a raw, immediate wave of something hot and bitter. Jealousy rises like bile in my throat. I shouldn’t care about the women he used to fuck. He’s my captor, my jailer, the monster I despise. But the thought of his perfect, ruthless body being intimate with any of these simpering, envious women, pumping into them, allowing them to share his bed, sends a spike of irrational rage through me. Has he fucked any of them in the bed we share? I’ll throw it out in a heartbeat.

He laughed, the sound low and deep. "Correction," he said, his lips curling. "You only think men are scum because you love them. Don't love them, use them. Then you'll see that they're just tools. And tools don't disappoint." I blinked, confused. He glanced down at my bruised wrist, then back at my face, his expression unreadable. "You ever heard of the power of jealousy?" he asked. "What?" "Jealousy," he said. "Pain breaks you. But Jealousy? now that drives you. When it burns in the right person, it becomes power."

The gesture was so intimate, so loving, that something ugly and hot twisted in my chest. Jealousy. Pure, vicious jealousy.

REBECCA "Well, I would describe jealousy as a wave. It crashes into your heart with a mix of emotions. Anger and sadness. Most of the time, it's not a pleasant feeling, but it hurts. Right here," she said, placing her hand over her heart. "It hurts. Your chest tightens, and it feels like you can't breathe. Sometimes you might feel like crying or becoming so furious that you want to resort to violence, like punching someone in the face. I can't exactly put it into words, but it's quite overwhelming."

It was supposed to make my heart flutter with happiness. But instead, I felt jealousy burning my heart. I grabbed his face with one of my hands and pulled it closer to mine. My eyes were blazing with jealousy, I could feel them burning. “And how many women have you seen naked before me?” I asked him angrily. Just the thought of him being with another woman dipped my heart into lava.

It left me clean and shaky and angrier than before. Jealousy is hunger with a smart mouth. It tells me to bite my way back to his attention. It tells me to walk into his war room and put my throat in his hand and remind him I am the promise that bleeds the same. It tells me to get loud. He hates when I get loud when the pack can hear; it makes him a man instead of a myth and he hates being the only man in front of those who need him to be weather.

The very essence of jealousy is the belief that someone else possesses what we lack, and it's a tormenting thought that can tear us apart. But amidst the pain and chaos that jealousy can inflict, there is an underlying truth: it reveals the depth of our emotions and the intensity of our desires. Jealousy is a testament to the passion we feel, the love we hold, and the vulnerability that comes with opening our hearts to another. It is a reminder that we care deeply, and that caring is worth fighting for.