When he told me

The sun was beating down on my exposed neck. His ice cream dripped on my foot but it had been so hot I hadn't noticed at first. We walked along the seaside and then he said it. “ I think I need space” the frost on my teeth shattered my bones. Splinters pointing out through my chest skin as I internally bleed from the shredded heart. But the ice-cream has slowed my death. It actually stopped everything the hint of salt is lodged in a crevice if my esophagul region somewhere but it isnt as bitter as the truth. The chocolate fragments that is discovered by each glide of my tongue makes all of the components marry each other. Well any hopes of marriage and all the rest of the smooth hills of vanilla sex I once had was over. He was the pretzel slivers I had to pulverize to mold and dig out of a back molar. Not saying he wasn't good he just wasn't as good as ice-cream on a hot ass day with an ex boyfriend who paid for your melt in your mouth and on your foot vanilla spiced, custard innards with chocolate morsels and pretzel shards and a hint of salt minerals from his shoulder. Damn good ice cream like vanilla sex on a hot beach.