I didn't wanted her to see
how many admired her.
We both stand side by side,
but I was always invisible,
and she was everything
to everyone.
I noticed every glance she didn't,
every compliment whispered in corners.
She lit up rooms
without even trying.
And when I tried—
the room only dimmed.
Maybe I wanted her
to stay unaware of it all.
Not because I hated her—
but because if she never saw it,
the gap between us wouldn't feel so wide.
Maybe so I could breathe
a little easier in my own skin.
But even through
all the jealousy— I had in me.
Why it was me,
who showed her the mirror.
Why I reminded her
how blinding she was,
how powerful,
how admired—
more than she'd ever know.
Why I was the one
who collected her tears.
So what exactly was it
that I hated in her?