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Click hereI have found that
lovers, secret lovers
are not for sunshine
and holidays,
shining presents,
or circles of laughter
They are for
shadow places and
hidden mornings,
locked-door afternoons,
deleted scenes
And now I carry this
pain inside
a silent burden -
dripping pathos,
aching.
My heart has a bruise
that never heals
And I will always feel
alone, somehow
A half of something,
a half of a secret
I wonder,
did i make a choice,
did I choose this,
this kind
of agony?
No, no,
I didn't choose it
rather,
it chose me
And secret lovers
aren't for sunshine
and holidays