I resent the sunlight, the way it spills across your skin—you must be golden. I resent the wind, the way it brushes your hair; how I wish I'd seen you smile. I resent the earth, the way it holds you so you can finally rest. I resent the rain, the way it touches you gently, as if it knows you better than I ever could. I resent myself, the way I let time unfold and chances slip away. How I wish I could be by your side —the echo of what could have been still lingers. I resent the time, the way it brings you closer than my heart was ready to take, then pulls you away, your heart not yet ready for mine. I resent the distance, the way it turns your absence into a habit. I'm greedy for you. I want to be selfish, just once, and fight every metaphor between us, just to call you mine.