argene

Spring Fever Villanelle (It's my first time writing one of these, be gentle)!


Fucking hot and sticky juice from oranges does nothing to cool my lust
Ice too cold in my drink
I sigh at sit impatiently at the picnic table, staring at rust

Preacher clears the crumbs away, only because he must
Flies buzz helplessly, caught in the leftover slush of watermelon
Fucking hot and sticky juice from oranges does nothing to cool my lust


His wife presses the knife in the cake, cutting off the crust
I can see you brushing at grass stains on the garters beneath your skirt
I sigh at sit impatiently at the picnic table, staring at rust


Grass stains smudged into the white
Leading to a mussed dress, wrinkles in crinoline
Fucking hot and sticky juice from oranges does nothing to cool my lust


I shift impatiently and pretend
Fancy another go behind the old oak tree? (Insert Cockeny accent here)


The sun goes down and you don't move
Irritating time breathes down my neck
Fucking hot and sticky juice from oranges does nothing to cool my lust