Irritating.

Surface level, the first thing

I think

of you.

Push-press my buttons,

calculated

to ignite sparks, simmer

rabid dog, I snap back

snarl, fangs bared

you flinch.

You make me mad

this

you know well.

Under my skin, dig your fingers

last nerves

uprooted

like so many weeds.

I think, sometimes,

I would not mind

if you were shipped off

to a distant country

economy class, slowest

route

smack a stamp on you, bon voyage!

Good riddance.

Then

a tap at my door

will you watch a video with me?

and I see the way

you try your best

to make it seem as if you don't care

if my answer is yes

or

no

but the hopeful flicker of your eyes

(damn you!)

draws a sigh, performative, petulant

from my lungs.

Yes

I will watch a video with you.

I will bring you a cookie

(I saved it for you, from my lunch)

and when you go to bed

I will turn off

your closet light,

left on, low, soft

(you're scared of the dark, I think)

and take a look

at your small face, innocent

in sleep, vulnerable

and I smile.

Goodnight, little brother.

I hate you, I love you

I will always

be

here.