Like How I Remember

Click, the mouse said. You appeared.
You look better than I imagined.

I've pictured your face more than once with that boyish smile you use to wear--shy, sensitive, a total coy--and those eyes you had with the sincerity a girl like me normally sees.
Blue, am I right?
Like two drops of crystal water out of the ocean?
Kind eyes, I thought, too kind to say you didn't bear any scars. The girls back then must have broken your heart too much. I'm not one to judge, of course, but nothing is sincerely mellow in a pleasing face for no reason.

Someday, I thought then, you'd shed all the modesty away. The adult version of you will stand as a man built to tackle the world and ready to love and leave.
Built to question.
Built to judged.
Built to have regrets.
Built to build regrets.
Built to break hearts.

How had things been between then and now?
I was never there to see it.
I must say though, by your current feature, time had chosen to physically treat you well.

Sorry, I was just trying to recall how you were back when I knew you.
I wish, with my fingers crossed so tight, you're still exactly like how I remember.