On winter evenings, the lights would come on earlier.
People would be shopping for Christmas. Each hand,
With the one whorl of its fingerprints, with twenty
Delicate bones inside it, reaching up
To touch some bolt of cloth, or choose a gift,
A little different from any other hand.
You know how the past tense turns a sentence dark,
But leaves names, lovers, places showing through:

Larry Levis, from “Childhood Ideogram,” Winter Stars (University of Pittsburgh Press, 1985)

161210 Tweet : Yesung

Thank you so much ELF Vietnam. I lived unforgettable memories, I was really happy^^ It was nice meeting you all, next time I will come with other members of Super Junior to see you.
I always thank and love you all. 😘 #vietnam #ELF #love #yesung

Merci beaucoup les ELF du Vietnam. J’ai vécu d’innoubliables souvenirs, j’étais vraiment heureux^^ C’était bien de tous vous rencontrer, la prochaine fois je viendrai avec d’autres membres de Super Junior pour vous voir.
Je vous remercie toujours et vous aime tous. 😘 #vietnam #ELF #amour #yesung

Woman much missed, how you call to me, call to me,
Saying that now you are not as you were
When you had changed from the one who was all to me,
But as at first, when our day was fair.

Can it be you that I hear? Let me view you, then,
Standing as when I drew near to the town
Where you would wait for me: yes, as I knew you then,
Even to the original air-blue gown!

Or is it only the breeze, in its listlessness
Travelling across the wet mead to me here,
You being ever dissolved to wan wistlessness,
Heard no more again far or near?

         Thus I; faltering forward,
         Leaves around me falling,
Wind oozing thin through the thorn from norward,
         And the woman calling.

—  The Voice, Thomas Hardy
A Frozen Forever

I inch closer to you on the bench.

Two teenagers wrapped up in colorful thoughts

With hair over our eyes.

Always over our eyes.

We talk about scientific theories

And TS Eliot.

The still point of the turning world

Is us

When we’re together

In this calm space

That floats like the sun.

When I am with you

My body explodes into psychedelic flowers

In an illustration.

My brain turns

To a glowing jellyfish

Squirming through warm, translucent water

At the bottom of the ocean,

Where huge things grin silently

And glide like continents,

Opening their mouths.

We have so much to talk about.

Our minds could be spinning tops for days,

Getting crazier and crazier

As we go down the same twisted path

HP Lovecraft went down,

A dingy dark red highlighting zigzag brown trees.

We could speak


For days

About our passions.

But all this talk falls away

When I look into your eyes.

The only safe space.

A warm brown.

An age there beyond your years

That I melt in.

Like coffee but a thousand times richer.