My Cardboard Balcony

Chocolate Winter by Belinda Roddie December bought me a frosty at Wendy's, with his scarf all bunched up around his ears. The ice cream, while delicious, tightened my jaw and iced up my innards in an uncomfortable blizzard grip. December noticed that I was very cold, so he took my hand (chilling it with his fingers) and led me down long streets to his cabin. There were eleven of his friends, some sleeping, others playing chess, others bundled up by the fire complaining of the lost heat and summer chokeholds. He sat me down at a small table and stirred a pack of powder into a mug - the best he could do in regards to hot cocoa, but with toasted marshmallows it meant more to me than the winter man could ever think it was.

They say I'll find salvation when I atone for my sins. They say I'll find salvation when my life with Christ begins. They say I'll find salvation when I finally see the truth. They say I'll find salvation even when I've lost my youth. They twirl around their crosses and they pat me on the head, and they tell me Hell's no place to go when at long last I'm dead. But if salvation comes and asks me to then hate myself, then I'd rather be lost from God than be somebody else.