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december sun

  • Writer: Yongle Voynich
    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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