your ability to persevere
through the sweat
pain
and pure exertion
fascinates me.
you’re a different person on that court;
it’s almost magical.
you said it yourself
that everything in your life goes away
and it’s just you and the sport.
i wish i had something like that,
something to help me forget the struggles of daily life
in the same way it helps you forget
homework, girlfriends, and anything deeper that may be bothering you that day.
oh, to be the basketball star.

i wonder what would happen if you broke up with her
and i had the chance to go after you.
would i still smile at you every time i saw you in the hallway?
would i still wait for you to say hi and then act like i wasn’t expecting it?
i hate to say it
but i think i’d go back to treating you like a friend;
the butterflies would leave
with the fear that she might find out i had feelings for you.
maybe i don’t want you,
i just like the idea of something i can’t have.

you use me;
string me along
like you have for years.
you whisper in my ear
just as i'm forgetting you,
tap my shoulder
as i'm walking away,
and i always whisper back,
turn around,
look at that smile,
and i'm doomed.

the day after we met
i told you
that i thought God put you in my life
to help me,
and you said you felt like we understood each other.
how did we form such a deep connection
having never seen each other in person,
and having only known each other for less than 24 hours?
that’s the kind of stuff that keeps me up at night.

i had a dream about seeing you this weekend
followed by a dream in which i was in a car accident.
i feel like that’s trying to tell me something.

i hate this stream of consciousness style
like nothing i write
has meter
rhythm
or rhyme.
it’s just my thoughts on paper
all jumbled up;
not even i can make sense of it.