I wanna watch her skate again and again
and argue with myself about what's more beautiful.

The smooth stokes she does
or the grinding sound of her blades biting the ice.

The way those white boots fit her perfectly
or the beauty who doesn't know how confident she looks.

I wanna watch her skate again and again
and argue with myself about which resembles her the most.

The mountains in the back covered with snow
just like her filled with joy.

The frozen ice glistening under the rising sun
just like her in the middle of the world.

he moves, like a dream
—memories that resurface from murky depths,
scenes cut out from rolls of film, flickering.

he moves, like a song
—glittering stars that descend from the heavens,
the sound of water hitting the rocks, never-ending.

he moves, like a wish
—prayers from you to me, from me to you, from us to God,
deep and shallow breaths in the interstice of smiles, promising.

he moves, like a warrior
—ink that never runs out til its story has been told,
cries that can be heard from deep inside, reverberating.

he moves, and he moves
—and he stops,
chilling.

he moves.

The chill seeped in my bones
Cold numbed the bared skin
Of my face and hands
Thin black cloth
Wraps around me
With strikes of color
I am not warm
I am not cold
With twin blades
Beneath my feet
My center of gravity
Shifted
But that's okay
I can still be
I move forward
Gliding across
the ice
The danger
The thrill
I love the elegance
of the sport
This is where I breathe