My Cardboard Balcony

Sweet Ollie by Belinda Roddie Sweet Ollie, who liked sleeping with their head across my lap, who liked their milk ice cold and their cookies gooey in the center, told me they'd love me 'til we both grew old, told me they'd love me 'til the crescent moon fell from the sky like a dry fingernail freed from the burden of its lover's hand. The air around us felt so thin and stale, like breathing souls of dust crowding around an ashen funeral. Once I exhaled, I felt my ribs protrude, become pronounced, like bars on a cage. Ollie kissed ev'ry part of me that was weak, frail, under duress, and exposed my heart once we were undressed.

"This was supposed to be premium value." "What was?" I asked with a sneer. "The cheap steak, or the even cheaper bubbly?" "Honestly, cheap bubbly is way better than cheap steak," remarked Cassius from where he sat in the corner, caressing an empty bottle of what used to be red wine. "Don't ever go cheap with red meat, man. It'll fuck. You. Up." " Premium value!" screamed Martha.