It's

Fickle love

Is like your friends cupcakes from scratch.

You know the one that thinks they can cook?

It’s usually horrible,

Landing in garbages.

Yet you smile and say,’Nice try!’

Prompting yet another concoction.

With another feeble smile and sorry eyes,

Shaking a head for another go.

Baking upon baking,

Never quite right.

This one’s too sweet, ‘It was worth a shot!’

Far to rough, ‘I’m sure you can do better!’

Until you take a bite and

Demolish the pastry.

‘Perfect!’

The thing with Fickle love is recipes never changed

Because Fickle love, is simply eating your own shame.

Alternate last line: Because Fickle love just means you don’t have a taste.

I wanna get a shit ton of beautiful ones.

I don’t like it when people do it and think I can’t hear. Say it to my face.

I think doing this daily would help me. So for the first day I figured I’d explain my likes, dislikes, and dreams.

I like being held, I love the warmth I feel when it happens. It’s why I’m so jealous of couples I see canoodling. I also like high fives, because when most happen, even in gloom, they’re almost always done with some weird kind of excitement and exuberance. I like love learning new things.

I dislike it when people are rude, and now they are being rude. It’s tacky. I also dislike it when people exclude others, or on a grander scale ‘pick on’ others.

I dream to be a teacher, or a librarian. I want to pass on as much knowledge to the next generation as I can. I figure we’re dooming them and the only weapon they have is that lipid rich brain they possess.

I also dream of that little house by the sea with kids and a somebody by my side, but don’t we all dream that?