skating in circles

the most romantic
is all that never happened,
and there you skated
before the red light glow
of a city on valentines,
we are alone.

you glided smooth
and backwards in circles,
your ponytail twirling
like a paintbrush
in the wind.

i've created you freshly
blossoming in my head,
with my eyes and with my eyes
i knew i knew you,
before we glanced each other,
in a moment softly sniffling.

we never spoke, and never spoke
and nothing transpired
between our frozen dance,
between the deep circles
we carved around each other.

you untied your skates
and i gazed at mine,
our shy silence lingered
as the bus pulled away,
from an empty, silent rink.

voices lost in snow

garden of words and thought of daniella
between hills of snow and soft warm smoke
"we drifted away, because there wasn't that spark."
last few days, and i haven't had a chance to breathe
so busy with nothing, these lists and stars.

one week from today, where will i be?
it's been over a year, since i was torn apart,
lust and desire, when will it stop?
nothing is constant, nothing remains the same
this too will pass, these two lost lovers.

and tolstoy says it all:
"hearing the strange tone in Eroska's voice,
Olenin turned to look at him.
The old man's eyes were filled with tears,
and one rolled down his cheek.
He was crying."

shinkai's colours,
in daniella's eyes.
kozelek's sighs,
these aimless wanderings.
marshall's calm,
to their sad fumbling.
there's zoran in Eroska,
and Olenin in i,
all frames shifting,
all things changing.