I scanned thousands of faces in the streets,
hoping to catch a glimpse of you.
I ran after strangers,
called people by your name,
I made a fool of myself in the open.
Some simply smiled and walked away,
others pushed me off.
All of that was a punch,
served straight at the core of my heart.
Non of them turned out to be you,
or to state is best, non will ever be you.
I spent endless evenings,
standing at the edge of that golf pitch,
the very one you brought me to,
the day you won your last medal.
Only that this time was different,
I did not see that man,
the man who rocked his arm back,
every time he made a score.
The pitch that brought me so much joy months ago,
turns to be the most hurting sights of this moment.
Maybe,just maybe,
someday I will learn to accept this side of the view,
the view with no lights,
nor laughter.
There is never a recovery from this,
there's only learning to live with it.

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