There's Something about December
There's something about her that catches his eye. Maybe it's the playful ways she pulls at the blue string of her sweatshirt. Or maybe it's how she blows kisses to strangers or keeps her hair in front of her face. Perhaps it is her eyes -- icy blue like his favorite freezer pop that came in the plastic. She was cold. She was cruel. She was his perfection and the stick thin object of my disdain.