My Cardboard Balcony

Just So You Know by Belinda Roddie Just so you know, I don't believe in true love's kiss, or in soulmates, or in any concept of romance in the slightest. You can call me cynical, and I may be, but I've been burned too much to move too close to any flames of "passion." Now, I don't oppose a gift of a chocolates or a rose, but those are merely gestures, and I won't be moved by them. Physical contact, sure, can thrill me, but my mind will not be swayed, no will your words change me, though they be pure from falsehoods or betrayal. Now, have I made myself clear, or will you continue to try to prove I should be in love with you?

Over Thy Wounds by Belinda Roddie Over thy wounds, I breathe what was once yours: all memories in cool tendrils of air, sorrows like smoke wafting through all my pores and in and out of my nostrils. The pair of us are riddled with inadequate tattoos - spider webs - leaking red and black - we bleed ink - we are ink - our plodding fate to be nothing but scribbles on the back of the hand of some god soaked in ennui, like cologne. I will kiss each broken word, assuming the shape of your fractured teeth, until your language somehow can be heard - revived - recognized - burning in my mouth. I never knew that you could be so loud.

A Single Sip by Belinda Roddie A single sip from the fountain of youth reverted me back to thirty years old again, and while I felt amazing, truth be told, I was quite frightened of the bold and instant transformation. I had been seventy-two, and now the gray was gone from my hair, wrinkles all non-existent, and body spry and free despite nights long, counting stars when I couldn't fly to them. Alas, my love did not drink from the pool, and so she remained old and dry like stems of lavender. She still was beautiful, but she would pass into an endless sea, while I'd live with fear of mortality.

The Feline White As Snow by Belinda Roddie The feline white as snow preferred to rouse me from my slumber in the early morn - three thirty AM, to be exact. Out he went from my bedroom, though I was torn about shutting the door. And yet, I craved... nay, needed more than a few hours of rest to handle being back in class. I braved the traffic and elements to the best of my ability so I could teach on campus, mask and all. And yet this youth of a cat was quite keen to each night breach the unspoken contract 'tween us. Yes, the truth of the matter was, the door would be closed, and he could receive love when next I rose.

She Wanted To by Belinda Roddie She wanted to destroy the world because it looked at her funny, and so she scowled at all its elements like viewing scum. She judged each living creature 'neath the cowl of its night sky, refusing to believe that there could be a rightful place for her within its complicated hierarchy. She drew new worlds that she could, undeterred, visit at least cerebrally at times, creating new colors all of her own, new shapes and souls and beings, visual rhymes and reasons, distorted musical tone in symphonies of inks and paints and oils. Her hatred of the world would always boil.

The Fifth Of August by Belinda Roddie The fifth of August was Sam's funeral, and Lisa was there, dressed fully in black, watching as the coffin, stiffened white pall and all, descended far beyond the stack of dirt and settled into endless dust. Sam had been thirty-three, too young to throw away her mortal coil, as Shakespeare must have said (or was it shuffled? I don't know, thought Lisa, and frankly, I just don't care). All she could think of was her lover's smile and blue eyes before dimming in despair, sunken above skeletal cheekbones, tile in color. August sixth was no better, and Lisa's drinking would not be deterred.

The Dagger by Belinda Roddie The dagger had been used for a good eleven years, but it had seen the days of war and peace, rusted from all the blood and now seemingly sheathed in fading gray for the rest of eternity. And yet, she held the relic in her battered hands and remembered the life it had been wet with - the loved one it had slain. The commands of her army were silent, but her heart still followed the rhythm of battle drums, and while she tried desp'rately to take part in diplomacy, sounds of vengeance thrummed in every fiber of her being. Still, the dagger would not be used 'gainst its will.

That's How You Know by Belinda Roddie "That's how you know that she's the one for you," my father told me over mugs of beer and lukewarm pizza. Quite out of the blue, he had informed me he observed my queer relationship and knew my partner was head over heels for me. He then proclaimed it was because of how she smiled, because of how she laughed, because her gaze was aimed at me ev'ry time I entered a room and ev'ry time I exited. I grinned and shook my head - sure, we could all presume how she felt about me from expressions, but it was only surface level. She had words, and touch, and warmth, and reverie.

Just Before Sunset by Belinda Roddie Just before sunset, a woman arrived in our town, wide-brimmed hat slightly askew across her brow, as she took snuff and sighed at the sight of the tumbleweeds and blue walls of the sheriff's building. "Where's my badge?" she asked the deputy, and he, though no words slipped from him, handed it over. Tags - dog tags - hung from our new sheriff's neck. No tassels or spurs bedecked her worn down boots. She headed straight into the office as we watched and settled in, ignoring looks exchanged among the townsfolk. Nothing crass was said, nor did anyone question it. In fact, outlaws wouldn't like it one bit!

You Meant To Foot My Bill by Belinda Roddie You meant to foot my bill at the café and leave me white roses at your hotel, but you had not received your monthly pay, and the bellhop told you to go to Hell. You wanted to call me, but you chose not to, since you remembered I'd get anxious while on the phone. In fact, all that you got for me was a cheap bottle of rum - Guess you failed at being the romantic type. Honestly, people say that you're a creep for pursuing me; "Don't believe the 'hype,' you say. "Real creeps watch you while you sleep, and don't take no for an answer." But I said no a million times: Fuck off and die.

You Rescued Me by Belinda Roddie You rescued me not from a literal precipice, but from a emotional one, steering my soul to the light so all I could feel was the warmth throughout my whole being, from the sun, moon, and stars above. I learned the constellations, one by one, so that I could craft them with all my love and make you jewelry to wear. A gun could not kill me, nor could a sharpened blade - not when you forged me armor that could take the blows and cast spells that provided shade and shield amid the war fire. While I make my new path, I shall rescue you as well, should your spirit be pulled to pits of Hell.

The Ring You Gave Me by Belinda Roddie The ring you gave me now no longer fits, and so I have attached it to a chain to wear around my neck. Though I do miss the warmth of the band on my weathered skin, I like it when the sun hits it just right because the gemstones light up and make my chest look like a rainbow firework. Night falls, and still, the jewels will catch the eye of the moon, and I become green and gold and purple and red and blue without me even trying. I heard that you had told a friend you'd buy me a new ring, but see, I don't need one - not from you, anyway. This symbol of our love is good to stay.

Tonight by Belinda Roddie Tonight, let's calm our bones with laughter and much needed sleep. We'll eat a full-blown meal, complete with grease, and tell stories so grand, and yet so trivial, that we'll reveal the best parts of ourselves. We'll watch something that's silly but delightful, like Sonic the Hedgehog, with shenanigans and rings. Let's discuss the game franchise's super slick history afterwards before we all drift off into dreams that we hope are calm after the storm (storms that were a close call included). Using the AC as a balm for my flush skin, I'll fold myself into an origami bird made just for you.

Man Loveth Beast by Belinda Roddie Man loveth beast, and so beast loveth man, for they work to conquer the tiny place provided to them. Words like companion come to mind as they navigate the space between them and around them. Man doth feed the beast, and so the beast shall then requite the love via cuddles fitting their breed and temp'rament. As day succumbs to night, so shall man and beast dream of lands they wish they could rule. Breakfast comes but soon enough, and so man feasts on toast and beast on fish (or chicken, whatever's in the can). Rough the road may be ahead for both of them, but they shall live well together 'til then.

Sometimes by Belinda Roddie Sometimes, I feel as if I'm on the brink of either glory or pure disaster. I flip a coin to either float or sink into the abyss of the universe that plays dice with me every goddamn day. I cry for tiny lives and scream for more time, though anxiety's the price I pay for this morass of bayou brain. Adore me if you will, but know we'll both teeter on the edge of this precarious cliff that leads to Purgatory - not Hell, nor Heaven, but where with tired hands, we'll sift through guessing games and questions unanswered, never to be answered, our vision blurred.

I'll Wear A Mask by Belinda Roddie I'll wear a mask whenever I feel ill; be it a cold or potential flu, my mouth shall be covered, though my lips won't be sealed as I spread the word of my life's new route. I'll wear a mask to make a stranger sigh in relief, just in case anxiety propels their feet forward. Not one stink eye will rattle, dissuade, bug, or deter me. Not even family will change my mind, for I believe in pure altruism and helping society. I'll remind people of the fucked up "healthcare system" that we cope with. I'll wear a mask despite your misgivings, so fuck off and good night.

My Parents' Generation by Belinda Roddie My parents' generation isn't "fine" - it's not the golden standard of success, nor is it indicative of a line of stability (well, save for a check and an actual house they could afford). We did not make up these genders or thoughts: they were always there, but the boomers' sword of choice was gutting all the things we've fought for. Freedom to be one's self was our choice to earn, and if only our parents had been raised to love and embrace ev'ry voice that was a little neon glitter clad. We know our neuroses and limits now, while last generation doesn't know how.

For Four Years by Belinda Roddie For four years, I carelessly entertained the man who would become my abuser. Sure, we were not romantic, but the pain still reverberated. I remember the words he branded on me from a screen (though now I plan to get them tattooed on my body somewhere). I recall the sheen of tears each time he spiraled, deep and long, into his own psychosis, dragging me down into the pit with him. Still, I cared for him, showed compassion. But he nearly sucked me dry, like Nosferatu - he scared me, terrorized me, 'til I at least dealt my final card and said, "Go fuck yourself."

We'll Build A House by Belinda Roddie We'll build a house much better than the one we've paid to squat in, and it'll have all the qualities we've ever wanted: Fun opportunities for art on walls, a bar downstairs, and some cozy bedrooms for both us and our future kids. Our yard will be so big, with redwoods killing gloom with their height and grandeur. I'll be a bard but also a master griller, while you will paint and put masterwork on display. We'll both write, sing, dress up, film, and paint blue skies across our ceilings to fight the gray around us. Or maybe we'll stay right here and try to fix the house we live in, dear.

I Cannot Say by Belinda Roddie I cannot say a single goddamn word to rectify a sad situation, and while I get it, it still fucking hurts to see my loved ones all still suffering. My mediator brain is on the fritz as I navigate - gasp! - being silent rather than "teacher" or diplomatic (though geez, this is a teachable moment). How can I stitch my lips shut when I scream and cry as flashbacks rattle through my skull? After all, I can only burst the seams I've sewn until my wailing's a black hole, a gaping void, a self-inflicted curse - and most likely, I'm just making it worse.