I'm jealous, I still am,
Of things which you say,
In the way only you can;
Your silliness, sarcasm, and humor,
That peculiar go-to phrase.
Your self-doubting intelligence,
Your brow-raising disbelieve,
To appealing compliments,
Which paints an uncanny image.

I'm jealous, I still am,
Of the aura, you unintentionally radiate,
Gravitating other souls to your core.
The unavoidable essence you leave behind;
An unmistakable unique imprint,
The kind left for my breath to find,
And holding desperately onto,
For as long...