We are the same person
I know it, I feel it
That oneness of our minds
Of our souls

Cowardly, I remain in my “fantasy world”
As my mom used to call it
When, an introverted middle-schooler,
I retreated into the fabulous world
Confined within paper pages

While he ejaculates his thoughts into reality

“So close… and yet so far,”
I used to tease my sister
When she dribbled the clementine-colored ball intently, shot, and
Missed

But here I sit, directly diagonal to him
I could just turn and talk
To that brilliant twin soul, alien only in his extroversion
But instead I stand, irresolute,
Dribbling before that ominous basket,
Not even daring to shoot
For fear that he won’t recognize me
As himself