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unforced errors

In tennis,
Love means nothing.
Off the court,
It’s everything.
 
Tennis and love start the same—
Your pulse quickens, hands shake.
Your first high school match,
You lose the opening service game to love.
You would’ve felt less gutted
Had your opponent eviscerated you.
 
Tennis is a game
Of little lives and quiet deaths,
Each break point converted, electric—
Every winner a shock to the heart.
The points lost to careless mistakes internally bleed you,
Matches lost as a result of a million little cuts.
 
You could hold a eulogy
For each match lost,
Mourning them from the bleachers,
Hoping your team won’t feel the same loss.
 
The court slips away,
The way he did—
Your reach, no matter how fierce,
Falls short.
You swing, you miss—
The same way you lost him,
By fractions.
By fleeting moments.
By flaws you thought you could fix.
 
And when you walk off court,
It’s like leaving him again—
Bruised and breathless,
Haunted by points you’ll never win back.
 
The first time you fall in love,
He doesn’t stay.
And you carry it with you,
A soft ache beneath the skin,
Like the match you almost won
But couldn’t quite keep
In your hands.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2025




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Date: 8/23/2025 12:36:00 PM
Congratulations on your win. Excellent! Keep it up.
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Date: 8/23/2025 7:43:00 AM
Awesome use of metaphor Braelyn and I see you topped a contest on your first post. Welcome to PS!
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Date: 8/3/2025 11:15:00 PM
Thanks for sharing this... exposing your thoughts through your unique poetic style. Welcome to Poetry Soup. I welcome you with the love of the Lord, expressed by John 3:16 of the Bible, "For God so loved the world, that he gave his only begotten Son, that whosoever believeth in him should not perish, but have everlasting life." Be blessed.
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