Yet again, the squabble began with my younger sibling.
We’d been battling it out over the landscape that was life for many years, both drawing weapons of choice and seeing it out across the war covered world of our home.
Even when he moved out and went beyond the horizon, we still met up over holiday seasons and family events to draw swords once again and tackle the fiery depths of each others lives.
Our perpetual thoughts of rage have continued throughout time and over decades. The mind sets we used to pin against our parents, the causing of the favourite child incident in 86′, the collision of the fork of 91′ and the one and only Y2K belief of 99′.
Each I remember and now I feel apart, lonely and misunderstood.
I wish I could take back that time I wished you dead and buried in the backyard.
Despite the squabbles, the petty fights and the battling over who got the last biscuit have all but died down and rolled out.
Now, I sit at night, looking into the sky from the bedroom window we once shared as infants. Seeing the stars, I can see you smiling down, taunting me over who has to live for both of us now in the emptiness of the night.