Hidden Tears

I cried that night, in long, bawling sobs; tears streaming down my face and soaking deep into my pillow. I cried myself to sleep, til each gasping breath scratched deep in my throat, and no more of the pain could flow from my eyes.

In the morning, I woke – my face still damp from where my cheek had rested on my sodden pillow, and moved on out into the world, to never cry again.

Years later, she held me in her arms, as I cried once more: the tears of happiness washing out the the dark, stagnant pool that had for so long lain still and murky, just under the surface.

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