4 IV

I waited to hear his smooth baritone, for since he was so priceless, he ought to have come elegantly packaged, padded with diamonds, and boxed with silk, yet, I paused, breath held in anticipation, I waited, euphoria leaked into my bones, for his voice was not just smooth, it was silk doused in glorious honey.

His name was Dike. Dike, beautiful, majestic Dike, dipped so carefully into a fountain, a fountain of sweet sweet mel, always the centre of my attention. Our conversations from then on were always the same, he speaking, and I nodding, worshipping him wholely as though he were ethereal. But in all honesty, I remember nothing of our past conversations, for once in my life, I thought of nothing, absolutely nothing, but I felt it, everything, the gorgeous quiet, empty mind, the serene solitude which existed in my head, I loved it, all of it.

But I remember a conversation, the talk, one of the few out of thousands of which we supposedly had. "What's your name?" I heard name, name, so, I looked, really looked, " You are beautiful. What's your name?" "Mma" with voice breathy, I repeated,"Mma, it means beauty." He smiled, a unique smile, one I had gotten used to. "Mma" he said, "It's new. It's different." To me, plain old Mma sounded more salient, more significant. Most meetings I'd had with people prior to our encounter were forgettable, more of a nuisance, but ours, to me, it was obsessive, addictive, not unique, not extraordinary, yet, it was all things paralyzing and only because, it was Dike. Drunk inducing and heart stopping Dike. Be it in the softness of his features, the naivete in his eyes, an aura which painted Nemesis in vibrant blues, reds and oranges, an obsession which kept rose tinted glasses permanently fixed on my eyes. Perfumed flowers that masked every insult directed at me as compliments, thoroughly insulting comments played off as nothing, just cause he made them.