I envy your strong strides,
How good you look in jeans. . . You carry them, they don’t carry you. I envy how sure your laugh is, how you clearly state what you want,
I miss watching you stride beside me, your steps strong and sure,
How your strength made me feel stronger.
I envy your Independence,
How you never stop trying,
I envy how you make everyone around you happier, how the lights look brighter when you walk into a room,
I envy the memory, of the strength I felt when you held my hand, how confident I felt knowing I was part of a team.
I envy the memory of our talks, how you managed to untangle the cobwebs of unresolved thought, how you helped the unscripted, raw thoughts morph into butterfly ideas, how my worries felt alittle less dounting.
I envy how you are not afraid of sorrow, how you stand firm and offer comfort, but know when to leave and recharge.
I envy the memory of your belief in my ability, how you refused to tolerate mediocrity, because you knew I could do better. . . I envy the memory of knowing that I was loved, even without it being said.
Above all I envy how you are not pretentious, how you say what you mean and mean what you say.
I envy the decisive.
