The fine line between cold
and
her head rested on your collar bone
Stubborn in their unwavering
Anchored resolute, poised to turn lead into gold
Under such brilliant lights
Your heart takes new residence
at the base of your throat
Almost mocking with their lack of bias
Infinite worlds rest on their narrow shoulders
Ready to unfold at your feet
Unnerved by thoughts of butterflies and hurricanes
Fortunes to be decided by a crooked booth
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