And here is the face I've spent countless hours, no, countless days straight looking at the past few months. Her face with that fierce intensity in her eyes with which she tells me she loves me more than I can imagine. Her pupils swell and her eyes flicker. This is our attempt at romantic telepathy. Yet, this face, this visage, this construction of subtle beauty may not turn thousands of heads in an instant, but the longer I let the minute hand swivel around the face of the clock, the easier it becomes to see its novelties. Namely her mouth, which she claims is slightly fuller on one side and she constantly readjusts in fear of it setting at an awkward angle. I examine it with my eyes and my own mouth and find it difficult to comprehend this smooth, pastel pink instrument for speech in front of me. Words slip out of it at a reasonable pace but the laugh, when uncontrollable, is some form of music they failed to teach me about in the classroom. This aside, it is not only her mouth that is novel. Though her genes called for a sharp, angular nose like the ones her sisters sport, she was graced with one not severe at all. Her "button nose," as she calls it, fits perfectly into the framework of her soft features and not only gives her a youthful look but makes it that much more difficult for me to resist her. Her eyes, two pools of blue, rest above her nose in a close-set manner. Multiple times I've told her Crayola should make a crayon featuring the color of her eyes, but this would be unfair to the makers of Crayola crayons considering the difficulty of capturing the color. Nor would it do her eyes much justice - they're never just gray or blue. Oftentimes, they are framed like a painting behind glasses that never detract from the natural elegance of her face as they might with others. What gives even more allure to her eyes are her long eyelashes, which sometimes give her that doe-eyed look that fills me with the warmth of a small fire. Its these eyelids I enjoy kissing. Then her cheeks, her jaw. I know she wants strong lines in these areas, but I feel their natural shape are suitable for her genteel features. She tilts her head to the side, yielding her neck to me - it's supple and smooth on my face. I wonder what would happen if she saw what I was seeing right now, what I see each day. If she knew what I was asking myself, "What genius imagined this raw beauty?" She may never look through my eyes, but I hope that by telling her how beautiful I find her each day that maybe she will come to accept and know the loveliness she has amounted to over her 21 years and the more she will amount to the more time passes.