I miss the roar of the crowd

I miss the adrenaline

I miss the plays

I miss the rallies

I miss the way we knew each other, what each was thinking,

What each was about to do

Nonverbal communication in a split second

I miss the trust

Knowing someone else was covering your back, on the court and off


I chose to leave, I know,

Yet it hurts so to watch the plays, the rallies, the way you still know each other

To hear the crowd roaring, not for me anymore

To see your adrenaline, and not feel it

Not able to feel what you're feeling anymore

Not able to know what you're thinking anymore


There is a freedom

In being alone;

It feels like cutting a finger

From its fist.


Worse still,

Watching you play

Like strong, deft hands

Who have never had a hangnail

Let alone lost a member

The End

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