defend the case for always being a bridesmaid

i never have to choose

the dress or shoes

waiting for the next to drop where a microphone sat after being spat into with slurred words offering a burnt piece of bread smothered in butter

i could have done better

that’s why i’m the one raising a glass

i stand and smile, while others turn around to face the face wearing a crown before being covered in enough food to feed the famine across dark and polluted oceans

where am i going with this?

standing behind while the hand kissed becomes a fist losing site of the target aimed for in this accolades fight

it’s all of ours

that platter

let’s fill it and tare apart home cooked batter, pulling from what we kneaded to make our lives real

this connection

a purpose selection

recognizing roles

aren’t reversed