the sound of the ball
the loud smack it makes
when it hits the floor
the way it moves in an orange blur
at one end
then at the other
never seeming to stay still
never in focus again
it was the only way i found
that would let me forget
but sometimes i still look up
scanning the crowd for you
you used to watch all my games
but now you never do
YOU ARE READING
to die would be an awfully big adventure
Poetryit may not look like it, but i'm okay i just miss you sometimes. {for the people who have had someone leave that they could never forget} (Completed)
