A Sickness So Debonair

This is my different shade of jealousy,
An ascot so chartreuse and an air of vanity.

There are holes in my tuxedo shirt
Where the knife still hides.
A knife from my miscalculation of "important things".
But, my pinstripe suit and cavalier grin
Keep the fact below my chary eyes.
After all, you can't see
The flux in my fabric
Where the pounds were shed.

So, let us toast to my dear friends, Misery and Doubt.
May they keep my make-up suave and smiling
For your sake, as well as mine.