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Jan 2014
Your happiness is
a light,
a beautiful light,
but my eyes
are so accustomed
to the night,
to seeking out the darkness
that will mask my burning,
that your beautiful, gentle light
is blinding
and I crawl back
to the shadows.
I miss you when
you're just down the hall, and
I'm sitting here
alone, searching for my tears.
Eliana
Written by
Eliana  Israel
(Israel)   
422
   rained-on parade
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