Curls slip down to frame your face,
And frost glitters like the fire in your eyes.
Drawing patterns as delicate as lace,
And more beautiful than all the skies.
I cannot help but think that your mind must be a beautiful place,
And my thoughts must be impossible to disguise.
For you look at me in that way you do,
As though daring me to look away.
As though I have a hope of pulling my eyes from you,
As though I could bear to look away.
I cannot help but think that all the world watches, too,
Thinking we must be characters in a play.
Watching with bated breath,
As we destined-two walk the stage.
As though we're characters in a favorite book,
And they cannot help but turn the page.
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