Ice cream

Sickly sweet,

Your words touch my prefrontal cortex

Like soft burning snow.

Your touch tastes sweeter

Than ice cream

On a humid sun-streaked day.

You,

Frost-borne by the north wind,

Smile like icicles

And pretend you care.

Yet

Addictive cold sugar streams down my throat

When I remember

That you’re here.

Ice cream tastes good in every season

Except winter.

mooncakes

VIC

14 years old

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