Butterflies come flying out [poetry]

How It Used To Be

I watch these movies
where two people fall together
and make love,
and I can't help but be jealous.

I can't help but be jealous
because it used to be making love for me too.

Or at it was
when I was with you.

I remember once you said

You wanted to make love to me.

You made it clear that you didn't want it to just be sex,

You wanted it to mean something.

I can't help but think of that conversation

when I watch these movies.
I remember when I thought of it as making love,

And I remember when that's what we did.

Then one day,

Some time after you left I'd guess,

It turned into sex.

It turned into flesh on flesh,

Sloppy lips on messed up necks,

And who knows if it was even good.

I watch these movies,

And the place in my heart where you've been set,

Fills with bitterness.

I'd imagine it feels how drowning would,

Because I've discovered one thing.
Jealousy burns in my lungs like alcohol in my throat.