You're an idiot.
I know that's a little weird coming from me, but its true.
You know he's no good for you. I can see it your eyes when I watch you watch him. That look…
Distrust.
Mixed with love.
That's why you're an idiot.
You told me once when I was a colony I would find someone who made me so happy the sky would turn grey when they weren't there. Your emerald eyes clouded over I knew you were thinking of him.
One day, the sky did turned grey. The only problem was that you were there.
From that day on I was no longer your little brother, but you were still my everything.
Its pathetic but I can't stop. To stop would mean loosing a part of myself. The part from grown from decades of shared language and culture, the part that grew in the trenches of Europe and budded into this bitter rose of love, thorns growing sharp and cutting into my heart.
The rose vine constricts with every glance, every subtle smile, every brush of hands that's shared with him and not me.
I think you're killing me.
Some Super Power I am.
I analyze the way you look at me if I'm lucky enough to catch you in the act. Subtly was always your strong point. Your glance is always… curious, almost questioning. But then you catch me and you turn away, sometimes with a blush that makes the tightly closed rose bud on my heart want to bloom, just a little.
But then you go home with him.
Maybe I am the idiot.
Because he proposed to you today, in front of the world.
You said yes today, right in front of me.
The thorns tore my heart to shreds.