Red, pink or purple inside, big or small, Touch me, twist me, I’ll rise tall. I’m made to meet a woman’s kiss, Leaving behind my mark on her lips.

I exist as spirals, but I am not a galaxy. You might find me in a lighthouse or castle.

The first three letters of my name may describe a desirable summer physique, the last three a shivering skater's dream. Altogether, I'm used to shape the human form, a clothing piece of the past comprised of beautiful fabrics.

I am known for heat, but I do not melt. You might mix me.

My name speaks of love, but I hunger to kill, I seduce my prey, and hold them against will. And yet, people let me sit on their windowsill...