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April 2016

Ping Pong Champions

This poem isn’t about you.
Though you may think it is. 
Or should it be. 
You’re typically the only thing on my mind 
and I tend to think a lot 
with thoughts that flicker faster then broken lights 
And my mind is generally what will form the words that I write 
And for now that’s the only constant that I have in my life 
And I’m not sure if that’s bad. 
Or if it’s good.
Or if that even exists. 
But when I begin to categorize 
my mind will find reason to move past the thought
that every reason to prove that I should try to close my eyes 
only think in my dreams

I wind up startling my mind throughout the day

in hopes of causing myself to forget what I was just doing. 
Or what I am doing.


What am I doing. 
Well I don’t know, 
but when I see you my breathing changes. 
my feelings fluctuate in and out like breathe along with my thoughts

and I’d like to think I have control over them 

but I tend to be coming back to a conclusion through all this confusion, 
that this poem isn’t about you. 
Or the way you look. 
It’s not about our personalities and how they seem the same or how they don’t, 
or whether or not that’s good or bad

because we seem to get along pretty well 
And maybe thats good. 
Or it’s bad. 
Or does that even exist.
Because what if what I’m doing is bad.
Or is it good. 
Or does that even exist. 
Well what I can tell you Is I’m not sure If it’s bad,
But it feels good.
And I feel good, 
and sometimes feeling good is the only constant there is. 
Maybe the meaning of this poem is if these constants really exist 
that Maybe it’s not about what is good or bad or if that exists. 
Maybe it’s about the way your teeth are so white they reflect my own smile.
Now we are both smiling and now I’m forgetting whether or not that good or bad 
or if that exists. 
But this poem isn’t about you I swear.
So trust me when I say I don’t know a lot of things

but I try and pretend that I do.
and maybe it’s not about knowing

maybe the only thing that I know is that I don’t know

but I can guess.

So maybe, 
Maybe this poem is about you.
But I’m guessing it’s not. 
But whose to say 
If that’s right or if it’s wrong 
Or if that even exists.

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