My Cardboard Balcony

Missed Me by Belinda Roddie Missed me like a drunken archer when you kissed me, sucked away the marrow from my mis'ry, pulling me away from all the roller coaster trauma, as I overdosed on anti-histamine little white tablets meant to stifle sneezes, but in reality I wanted just to feel drowsy all the time and forget the little things like your swollen body against mine. Oh, well. You've always found a way to make me feel less like Hell. You missed my lips when you tried to please me, but in my trance I'll try to kiss you and hit the target this time.

The marriage was binding. There was no turning back. The capes blown rightly from the shoulders of the men. The women bowed heads and let hems of gowns trace dissatisfaction in the mud. He let me away from the mountain, my fingers latched to his heavy gauntlet, the armor cold and uninviting against my touch. I looked into his scratched face and wondered what kind of knight I had married. If he was a knight at all.