Your love changes so easily

like the seasons,

unpredictable, one moment hot, then cold

as confusing as mother nature herself

 

Your love changes so easily

like the colors on an Autumn tree

One moment red and vibrant

the next no longer green, but dead and life less

 

You love changes so easily

oh, how quickly it transitions

one moment into a raging forest fire

the next, a torrential storm, drowned is your desire

 

Your love changes so easily

one day like the sun gently caressing my body

the next it’s the grey clouds making it rain from my eyes

Oh, my love, how truly confusing you love is

 

Your love changes so easily

while mine remains the same

true, solid as the rock, unwavering

beautiful as a spring day

 

Your love changes so easily

yet mine will stay unstained

never changing as if they were seasons,

but steady, only growing deeper, never given away

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!