You Are My Favorite

You are my favorite The mama said to the youngest Not so much in words But in smiles in nods, in gentle pats In her tone of voice The oldest knew he was the non-favorite Each time he saw the mama interact with his brother He felt a little more of himself slip away Slip into a bit of a funk Slip beneath the floor boards You are my favorite The mama tried with the oldest The non-favorite But in a different tone in a non-genuine way She was trying, but it was too little too late They both knew He smiled at her, saving her the heartbreak She had not saved him. He wished it was true, but the heart does not lie And the heart was already wailing Beneath the floorboards