I always knew I was never the favorite. What I loved was what you hated. Unmade beds, ranch dressing, and drawing. You woke up early and went to bed the same, I always thought it was because you tried your best not to see me. The fighting was full of empty words and slamming of cupboards. You tried to find me in the bottom of a wine bottle but once it was empty I was still the same person. It's not my fault I look like him. It's not my fault you decided to treat me like this. Months passed and we reconciled but I still can't find words to conjure up a conversation with you at the dinner table. Even though I'm able to help empty that wine bottle with you now, you still won't find who you want me to be at the bottom.

    -*KM