FOUR

Four freckled faces
Four bright smiles
Four ways to break my heart
Four precious lives we’ve ripped all apart

Four nights is all it took
Four lives made
flipped upside down
because of our foolish pride

Four little girls
half yours, half mine
my looks, your brains
young and caged afraid to fly

From you they learn work
infidelity and dishonesty
their opinions pushed aside
resentment for you building up inside

From me they learn love
tough and unconditional, love conquers all
no miles or span of types can tear us apart
for the moment, caged are their voices and hearts

We’ve both made bad decisions
broken; torn each other apart
created four lives
thinking we’d never part

Here we are
at odds once more
you want to shelter them
hide them away from the world

I can’t allow this
I must take a stand
four beautiful girls with minds
too great, too brilliant to ignore

Four freckled faces
downtrodden and blue
Four smiles turn to frowns
because of me and you

Four little girls
you’re whisking farther away
to strange far away places
when here is where they wish to stay

Four little lives
Four broken hearts
because you want your own way
never worried what to them is at stake

You never were faithful, always astray
Four worlds you want to wreck again
chasing whores when instead we could mend
shunning the chance to be a family again

But no not you
Too afraid of what if
Running away, terrified of peace
Waging war on our hearts and bond
you selfish son of a bitch

TOUGH LOVE

We used to talk for hours
over a toke, a smoke, a meal
but lately you’re so different
our relationship isn’t even real

Instead of sitting face to face
we barely even text
feelings of animosity
between us and ever growing wedge

Sure we’ve had our ups and downs
arguments and fights
sure we disagree sometimes
both thinking we are right

Now matter what it was
we always talked it out
debated, even compromised
until an agreement came about

Now we barely speak
communicate through a white board
all doors closed
no lines of any sort feel open anymore

I understand you love her
so many people do
but she doesn’t know how to love anyone
not even you
separating our bond of blood
come so quickly, irreversibly unglued

Lying and stealing from everyone
rummaging through our things
searching through my room at night
startles me from sleep

You say lock my door
as if that solves it all
I see no use, no protection
I don’t feel safe here at all

You swear you want to help her
yet simply coddle her along
enabling her even further
until you both end up losing it all

I’ve watched you fight this world alone
struggle through tough love
but you made it, you grew from it
finally you had come out on top

Maybe that’s what she needs
is someone to let her fall
tough love, and loneliness
a glimpse at what it’s like for that to be gone

Instead you continue to coddle
hindering that rise from the fall
denying a reason to get sober
allowing an addict to destroy you
until you both lose it all

About the author

Peony Ann

I am a mostly misunderstood child of the corn, born and raised in rural Illinois turned self-proclaimed writer with random, yet passionate opinions and views. It seems that I am self-taught because I was a stoner slack ass in high school who thought it’d be better to fuck around and see what kind of trouble I could make rather than to concentrate on a formal education. Who uses algebra in a corn field anyway?

My mission in life is to be me, be happy, and FTW if they don’t like it. I used to know what I really wanted in life. Since I was 5 years old, all I wanted was to be married to the same woman my entire life, be a doctor, a writer, to have a litter all my own, and to be the “token ‘hot’ Asian” in most settings. I just wasn’t sure how I felt about being a boy, because girls were just so much prettier. Now, as I approach my dirty 30, I have accomplished only one of those things successfully because, well, I’m Asian and we breed like rabbits, resulting in my litter of 5.

I aim to please, entertain and boggle with “WTF?!” moments. I even throw around a little poetry. Some will find me apPAULing, others hilarious, and some would maybe even call me a messed up kind of special. Those are the ones nearest and dearest to me who paid for all of those bibs, large crayons, and the occasional straight jacket to provide my short bus driver with for her own protection. Oh, and the ones who supported me through the transformational surgeries from Paul to Peony. I just wanted to be a delicate fucking flower, is that so wrong? P.S. I love my new tits!