december sun
- Yongle Voynich
- Oct 21, 2024
- 1 min read
i always wondered
why my predilections
steered me towards girls
with long black hair
tresses flowing like a waterfall
of strands and shampoo
rainbows staining my
longing nose, always
alluring to me
maybe it was the plastic rose
given by sweaty hands
to the girl with long
black hair in kindergarten
or years beyond, the clipped breaths
down grey streets, cobbled
pavement cracking beneath
worn out keds, running from
street lamp to street lamp
until we sprained our ankles
yet, maybe it was that winter day
when we ran up that green gable
hill, past all the sparse trees
in the yellow dew of sundown
that i promised myself
and the serotonin, oxytocin
racing in my blood
that you would be
my december sun.
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