Sweets and Russian ballerinas

She had the tiniest wrists.
They reminded me of innocence and I wanted to wrap my fingers around them to feel them touch at the other side.
 I looked up and saw her watching me stare at her wrists and I quickly looked away because the look in her eyes was not welcoming. I wanted to tell her she had nice wrists to explain myself.
Is it weird to tell someone they have nice wrists?
 I think her name is Marzipan and it reminds me of sweets and Russian ballerinas twirling in a whirlwind of grace of poise.
 I became increasingly enthralled by her and chocolate ballerinas danced and danced like wind up toys through my brain.

 For the first time in my life I had observed something perfect and that is a memorable moment in anyone's life.
How can something as susceptible to abnormalities as humans ever come clost to perfect?
 I thought of the right thing to say to her, she was sitting so close to me.
 I was so fixated on her appearance and the slight flicks of her wrist that I coudln't imagine her having a personality, her face and body being animated with emotion because she remained so focused on whatever she was writing.
 It's impossible to determine temperment through a face and I don't know what my ideal personality would be to be able to fantasize about it in my head.
So I imagine she has a sadness to match the perfect proportions of her face.
 And as I fall asleep that night as I imagned her a wind up toy twirling and twirling over my nightstand just to lull me to sleep.