i am the beautiful one, the snow fairy with dusted white over every inch of me. he sits in the snow and plays me song after song, everything but his guitar growing colder. a moment frozen in time, like a snow flake just landing on delicate eyelashes. so beautiful but only to be batted away, it is imperfect in its perfection. perfect but fradgile, perfect but lost. i am carried by his voice and i can almost touch him, georgous eyebrows and smooth skin dotted with freckles. he plays with no dynamics, just pounding a slow steady beat. he plays his heart, safe and strong. and i am wrapped by it, incircled and made whole. he makes me beautiful