it's not quite summer and i feel like a fridge
holding on to every fruit and tomato lying around,
protecting them from the harsh rays of the sun
keeping them fresh away from the annoying flies lazing around the kitchen

store all your greasy little remnants of food in my belly,
give me all your forgotten leftovers,
no gift is a waste to me, pretty fridge that i am, I'll cherish them all like cold little treasures.

and when i get *****, when the glass stops being shiny,
the stains like flower fields on every single one of my walls,
the colors or the fruits not so sweet anymore,
i know that i won't be pampered, won't be held precious like an infant,
the plates will still be stacked, the paint will still peel off,
i feel like that summer fridge, yes,
unable to help myself.