My Cardboard Balcony

Would you like a cup of tea? Make it mint for you and me. Lemon waits for spring to come. Chamomile just isn't fun. Tea is good while reading books. Sip your brew, ignore the looks. Hipster cafés are a treat when you sit and rest your feet. The barista has a grin as he serves your mug of sin. Come and have a cup of tea. Make it extra strong for me.

by Belinda Roddie "Okay, I know you're on a salted caramel kick, but stout? Really?!" "I couldn't resist, dude." "Salted. Caramel. Stout. Un-fucking-believable, man." "I just saw it in the booze aisle and thought, 'Well, that's two of my favorite things right there.'" "First, it was the salted caramel hot chocolate..." "Which I did spike, let me remind you." "With butterscotch schnapps." "I hadn't had that stuff in years! It was a treat!" "Yes, and I'll admit, I'm a sucker for sweet liqueur like that." "See?" "Then the constant boxes of salted caramel candy." "Yeah, I gotta lay off. Don't want these sick abs to become a giant keg." "..." "..." "...John." "Don't say I don't have abs." "John." "Do not say that I don't h...

Welp. Streak was good while it lasted.

You're going to have to forgive me for being vague in this introspection, y'all - most of you will understand what I'm talking about without hearing the specific word for it. The context is there. The subtext is there. The in-text citations are there...wait, no. No, that's my English teacher side bursting out of its cage. My bad. Just to make things clear, about eighty percent of my work is going great. Despite having to remind my students to, you know, be polite and stop chatting every ten seconds, I'm starting to realize how respected I might be as a teacher. Maybe not popular - I refuse to believe anyone at my high school who says I'm a popular or revered teacher - but respected nonetheless. Writing's going well, too. Despite being way done with the poetry unit, I'm still occasionally writing spoken word. I'm certainly not writing it as much, but it's becoming a staple. I like being able to create more variety in my writing and my style. A...

Wanted: Intergalactic Interpreter by Belinda Roddie I wasn't sure if I could speak the alien's language.

Please don't hand me your emotional baggage before we reach the security checkpoint. I already have my own bags to carry, and I'm not sure if I can even make it past the metal detector. I'm so riddled with obsessive metal piercings already that I might miss one while extracting them all from my ears and lips and nose and tongue. It's everywhere - I can taste the rusted anxiety. Hold your own luggage, weighed down with your sorrows. I am not in the mood to be steeped in your brooding tea.

This Wasn't Meant by Belinda Roddie This wasn't meant to happen overnight; I thought that it would take a week or two, just so I could make each little thing right and I could get that much closer to you. Before the sun even began to set, you said you wanted to go home with me, and now that you are sleeping in my bed, euphoria's turned to epiphany: I never thought that this would move so fast, and, come to think of it, I'm pretty scared. Did I love you that much to make it last, or would I make a mess if I so dared to whisper such a loaded word today? I don't know if that's a price I can pay.