I am the one in the backseat
of the car
on the couch
for the vacations
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I am barely above an afterthought,
but never anyone’s priority
I am the one startling
my friends and family
when they walk in the room
because they momentarily forget
that I’m there,
like the whisper of an idea,
almost forgotten,
but maybe not quite.
I am the small voice in the corner
whispering the fact that I’m vegetarian
while everyone agrees to a steakhouse
with me,
without me would mean I am truly forgotten,
so I consume the crumbs of bread
as I tell myself
“This is enough”,
as they gorge on feasts of flesh
while I am still begging for
the scraps on the table:
at their offerings
of conversation
when they get a glance
at the visage of me
while I pretend
love is a snack.
