black and white valentine

I see her everywhere. In the way the smallest bird's black eyes on a pivoted neck catches mine in that fleeting moment, grasping my little finger, bewildered yet unafraid. In the vertigo of white cream in the aromatic quiet cup of java on a ten degree morning, skinny-dipping like her rhythmic dance she only performs to a grateful audience of one. In the sound of her lonely voice, distantly trembled in the black speaker of the only cracked-glass phone booth left on planet Earth, her hazel eyes closed, tears streaming stealthily under masking blonde hair, in that blushing moment when she screams in a whisper I Love You too.