From the poetry book I read (and posted about yesterday) I came across one titled Brother last night; and today is my brother's birthday.
I almost swear I saw his name printed in between the curves of letters, the spaces distancing the lines. I squinted my eyes and I could almost see his image formed in peripheral vision, his features distinct.
I quiver through the words as I read, his resemblance growing more and more uncanny. This is him. This is about him.

Happy birthday my dear brother.

There have never been any seatbelts on your side of the car.
You have always known the better magic tricks.
You told me once that I was just the first draft,
and I'm inclined to believe you, but you came
with a lot more pieces to assemble and
Mom and Dad never got the manual. 

... 

You are my favorite stick of dynamite.
You are the opposite of a rubber band.
There are so many things I would tell you
if I thought that you would listen
and so many more you would tell me
if you believed I would understand. 

I hope you know that you were never meant to wear my shadow.
In fact, I'm the one who always steals your shoes.
But is that my sweatshirt you're wearing? It's okay, you can keep it.
I won't tell your secret. In fact, it really does look better on you. 

[Brother - Sarah Kay]