(no subject)
I'd describe the whole thing as ice cream.
His torso looked like swirled soft serve when he sat up, his skin folding over itself like meting vanilla brought outside on a hot day.
He was cold like ice cream, you'd try to get close to him, close enough to get beyond the initial taste of sweet.
When you got too close or stayed too long, he'd melt. And all you'd have left was sticky hands.
We ate a lot of ice cream together. That's about all he'd enjoy. And just like the dessert, he wasn't really that good for you.
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