My Cardboard Balcony

Another June come and gone. I'm twenty-seven years old. I'm still working at the same private school job. I officially got my preliminary single subject teaching credential in English. I went to Pride again. I'm a little more than three months away from my wedding. There's a lot happening. Obviously, there are things I can work on. My anxiety. My self-image. My energy when it comes to writing itself. It's no secret that, while my poetry has been okay, my fiction writing has deteriorated as of late. I know that it's tough to write a short story every week, but come on - I wrote an entire novel in eight days. I guess I just haven't had as much inspiration for longer creative projects. It's been a while since I finished my latest script, come to think of it. I know that it all ebbs and flows. Things get better, things get worse. For now, I'm trying really hard to focus on the present while also being mindful of how I'm forging my path. I have ...

The Perfect Mask by Belinda Roddie When I put on makeup, I look like someone else.

No update on the OneWord website today. Happy first day of July!

You May Not Think by Belinda Roddie You may not think I'm pretty, but I shine like rubies on the stage under the lights. I dance and spin through all the swing and rhyme of music that rejuvenates long nights when people drink and worry about death and crave for love that's empty like a glass that hasn't been filled yet. I take the breath away from the club's patrons, hear them gasp and try to get their air back. And I think I made a man fall in love with me. He gave me a kiss and offered me a drink once my routine was done. The reverie I put him in was beautiful, so there. You may not think I'm pretty - I don't care!

"Uh-oh." "What?" Josephine asked. She had gone very white, like a vampire had bitten her and sucked the blood out of her face. When she didn't get an immediate answer, her voice got louder and higher. "What, Freddy? What?" Frederick was looking at the thermometer in his hand. The one that he had just drawn out of his son Theodore's mouth. Theodore, shivering and sickly in his bed. Looking so small under the covers. "It's not good," Frederick said.

Pocketful Of Crystals by Belinda Roddie You left me fragments of quartz on my doorstep, and I stuck them deep into my jeans where their jagged edges couldn't pierce the denim or scratch the skin. As I waited for the sun to start setting, I walked to the beach, where I could taste the salt in the air and the seashells were collected in rows. I lay the treasure you gave me out on the dune, arranging them into little circlets, like broken tiaras in the sand. Once the gold rays caught the glassy spires, I had a gleaming rose and violet kingdom to behold on my tiny spot on the shore.

"Dude," I said. "What?" "That's, like, your fourth doughnut just today." I grinned as she tried to wipe the powdered sugar up her upper lip. "What, you want diabetes before you turn thirty?" "Hey, man," she replied. "May as well enjoy the sugar before my metabolism gets shot. Besides, aren't you the one who drank three colas at the baseball game last night?" "I needed the caffeine." "Like Hell you did - you were bouncing out of your seat!"