He tastes like a half eaten box of chocolate. He smells like fresh strawberry. His voice comes from a place of pure echo and it tavels through my ears, right to my heart. When we talk, I hear it in spasms of echoes, not in a disturbing way but in a way that I will always have his voice with me. His smile, oh his smile. It makes me want to live with him. If I do, maybe I will someday, smile like him. His dental formula is not one that might win a Colgate advertising competition but it is an art of perfection. The way they fit in his mouth with his incisors fighting for space. It is an art of perfection. His eyes. They are round and large, he can see my whole world is him, if he looked hard but this man doesn’t see because he doesn’t look. He doesn’t know how I long for him to hold my hands across the restaurant table. This manchild. He even reads.
I imagine the lenghty talks we could have about the books we love and why we love them, about the books we hate and why we hate them about the books we would love to read and authors we would cross the Atlantic, in order to meet. This manchild doesn’t see because he doesn’t look. He is scarce, like good results in Matiang’i error.
What is a girl supposed to do? Tell him? No! He will think I am easy. I am not, ask people who know. I cannot ignore his calls, they come every once a month. The only time of the month I look forward to. It could be love, it could be curosity but manchild, I am dying for something more than the occasional coffee and dinner. I want a little bit of you in everything I do. Complement the bass of your voice with my sweet singing voice. Supplement the large of your eyes with my chinese-like eyes. Be the small to your big body so that I can stop imagining how the wrap of your arms around me would feel. So that I can stop day dreaming about what it would be like to wake up next to you.
Do you know how many times I have closed and opened my eyes, slowly, romantically, hoping, praying that the teddy bear lying in my arms will miraculaously take yoir form? You have no fucking clue manchild.
What is a girl supposed to do?