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I long for summer to run her fingers through my hair

quiet nights, palms pressed to the fire

every hour gone to darkness is another stricken to her shadow

I’m so tired of being the sun

shining

burning

I long for winter to cry cold tears onto my face

snowflakes landing gently on my skin

cheeks pressed on the frosty glass

Every hour gone to darkness is another stricken to her shadow

she is the moon

somber and beautiful

and I long for the moon

I long

to be

the moon