The dark that got away.
I walk a line, strike a balance between the light and the dark as I’d be nothing without either and both at the same time.
Between washed out or hidden away, I choose the happy medium. I choose to stay between the dark side of the moon and the reflective surface that only shows what it is, never quite what I am.
I am something further back, but not totally removed.
I am where shadows shimmer because they remember what it is to bask in warmth, while carrying a sensation of icy fingers that best suited to nightmares and the long memory of winter.
Anything can hide in the dark, but shadows shift to suit their own selves.
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