I Couldn’t Marry You. I’d Be Baked Fagri By TropicGirlKay

The summer heat was stifling

my skin was raining on its own 

even between my breasts

rainy season fruit had all dried up

I was left with afternoon cravings 

that couldn’t be quenched 

(relief they say would come in November) 

I felt the room was a floating dock 

breath couldn’t be caught 

with the pressure tightening pressure

(is this what a roasting fish feels?) 

there is always a season for guests 

and one for pressing olive oil

I just happened to be in the wrong one 

it could be fine for love 

and frogging in the med 

but one cannot be a fish all day 

(I have tried and I am crisping)  

I feel the devil grabbing me 

if this is what hell is like

I am shedding my skin.