This is an unfinished experiment...
They should have called her a man eater, not that she actually ate them- but she went through them like water. She was a perfectionist and somehow she could always find a date. She devoured them, pulled them close to her, but eventually they all left for one reason or another. She was so hard to please. When she was threw with them she took part of them away and kept it locked up. With every relationship she gathering more, building the perfect man made up of all the best parts of all her best lovers.
Toby was a poet. She met him at a coffee shop and after talking to him decided to sleep with him. It went on like that for a month. Coffee. Talking. Sex. It was intimate but also very detached. He had beautiful hands, large and soft skinned, gentle but firm in his touch. She kissed him goodbye one morning but took his hands for herself before she closed the door. She kept them locked away and though she never looked at them she thought of them often.
Myles thought that he loved her but she knew better. Myles didn't love her. He loved love. She needed it. She wanted, craved it. He had a perfect neck and when they lay in bed she would rest her head on his shoulder and feel the warm smoothness of it against her forehead. Before falling asleep one night she stole it from him and locked it away. When she woke up he was gone.
She met Christopher on a train. In a delay they had smiled at one another and when she got off so did he. They talked the entire way to her apartment. She asked him up. They sat on the couch talking and talking led to kissing and kissing led to the bedroom. She unbuttoned his shirt from behind him and when she slipped the fabric down over his shoulders she fell in love with them, not Christopher but his wonderful shoulders. They were perfect. Afterward he fell asleep. She took the left side of the bed and lay there staring at his perfect shoulders- his back was toward her. Before she drifted off she ripped them off his body and locked them away. When she woke up he had vanished, leaving only a warm indent on a pillow.
There were times when she dreamt it all together, the whole body, but the face was always missing. He had arms and legs and a chest. He was so close to being complete. And the body was always still warm but there was no heart beat for her ear to listen to as she would rest her head on his chest and no eyes or mouth to tell her that she was beautiful. He lay there in bed with her unmoving. She pinched his thigh, hoping for something to happen, for him to wake up but he never did. She sat on his stomach and grabbed his shoulders and shook him, staring down at his headlessness, and began to cry. Do you love me? She asked him. Do you think I'm beautiful? But he did not, could not, reply. She thought of how he fit together and then she thought of them all. She grabbed one of his hands and looked and saw Toby's face. She kissed his neck and thought of Myles. She ran her finger down the curve of his neck and continued down his shoulders and thought of Christopher. They were all there in him but he remained hollow and grew cold to her. He was supposed to be perfect, and he was. He was perfect to look at, perfect to touch. He was a body for her to lay with, cast out her loneliness and help her sleep at night. It is so hard to sleep alone.
Where ever she went she saw the faces of men. Walking. On trains and busses. She picked each one apart, searched for their perfections and always found something. Once she was crossing a street and found herself locking eyes with a stranger. As they passed one another they brushed shoulders, never loosing the grip of the stare. He had a perfect nose. She followed him over her shoulder and saw that when he reached his corner he had stopped and turned around and was still looking at her. She stopped on the sidewalk and looked back. She stood there wondering if he would come to her or if he would turn around and go back to being another stranger lost in the crowd. A bus drove past and when she could see again he was gone.
They should have called her a man eater, not that she actually ate them- but she went through them like water. She was a perfectionist and somehow she could always find a date. She devoured them, pulled them close to her, but eventually they all left for one reason or another. She was so hard to please. When she was threw with them she took part of them away and kept it locked up. With every relationship she gathering more, building the perfect man made up of all the best parts of all her best lovers.
Toby was a poet. She met him at a coffee shop and after talking to him decided to sleep with him. It went on like that for a month. Coffee. Talking. Sex. It was intimate but also very detached. He had beautiful hands, large and soft skinned, gentle but firm in his touch. She kissed him goodbye one morning but took his hands for herself before she closed the door. She kept them locked away and though she never looked at them she thought of them often.
Myles thought that he loved her but she knew better. Myles didn't love her. He loved love. She needed it. She wanted, craved it. He had a perfect neck and when they lay in bed she would rest her head on his shoulder and feel the warm smoothness of it against her forehead. Before falling asleep one night she stole it from him and locked it away. When she woke up he was gone.
She met Christopher on a train. In a delay they had smiled at one another and when she got off so did he. They talked the entire way to her apartment. She asked him up. They sat on the couch talking and talking led to kissing and kissing led to the bedroom. She unbuttoned his shirt from behind him and when she slipped the fabric down over his shoulders she fell in love with them, not Christopher but his wonderful shoulders. They were perfect. Afterward he fell asleep. She took the left side of the bed and lay there staring at his perfect shoulders- his back was toward her. Before she drifted off she ripped them off his body and locked them away. When she woke up he had vanished, leaving only a warm indent on a pillow.
There were times when she dreamt it all together, the whole body, but the face was always missing. He had arms and legs and a chest. He was so close to being complete. And the body was always still warm but there was no heart beat for her ear to listen to as she would rest her head on his chest and no eyes or mouth to tell her that she was beautiful. He lay there in bed with her unmoving. She pinched his thigh, hoping for something to happen, for him to wake up but he never did. She sat on his stomach and grabbed his shoulders and shook him, staring down at his headlessness, and began to cry. Do you love me? She asked him. Do you think I'm beautiful? But he did not, could not, reply. She thought of how he fit together and then she thought of them all. She grabbed one of his hands and looked and saw Toby's face. She kissed his neck and thought of Myles. She ran her finger down the curve of his neck and continued down his shoulders and thought of Christopher. They were all there in him but he remained hollow and grew cold to her. He was supposed to be perfect, and he was. He was perfect to look at, perfect to touch. He was a body for her to lay with, cast out her loneliness and help her sleep at night. It is so hard to sleep alone.
Where ever she went she saw the faces of men. Walking. On trains and busses. She picked each one apart, searched for their perfections and always found something. Once she was crossing a street and found herself locking eyes with a stranger. As they passed one another they brushed shoulders, never loosing the grip of the stare. He had a perfect nose. She followed him over her shoulder and saw that when he reached his corner he had stopped and turned around and was still looking at her. She stopped on the sidewalk and looked back. She stood there wondering if he would come to her or if he would turn around and go back to being another stranger lost in the crowd. A bus drove past and when she could see again he was gone.
2 Comments:
A+!
This is one of the greatest things you've ever written. Seriously.
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