The Ice Cream Girl This work is considered exceptional by our editorial staff.

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I'll remember her waist. It was the negative space that existed between everything I wanted to touch. Her vanilla ice cream skin that I always wanted to dip my burnt hands into, but I was afraid of melting her. I'll remember her hair-- a force of vibrancy that offset her delicate figure. Golden highlights to remind me that I actually couldn't melt her even if I wanted to. Because was gold to be reckoned with. And I was bronze to be discarded. I'll remember her smile...her juvenile smile marked by youthful teeth. Teeth that anyone could tell, have never tasted blood. I wish I could throw my mouth in the dryer to shrink my lips, making them so meek and small, that I could kiss such a specific area of her lips, that I would feel one tooth at a time hidden under the luscious pink blanket. I'll remember crying when she lied with her soft skull atop my chest, because there was a distance in her hair that reminded me we were miles apart.
I was in love with her. She was in love with herself.





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