She used to think she–
She was the glue that binds them,
Instead without her,
They glow with freedoms,
she never could witness.
She used to think she–
She was the glue that binds them,
Instead without her,
They glow with freedoms,
she never could witness.
Sonia Chintha is an Indian American writer who lives in the Washington DC area. She blogs, writes poetry, and fiction. She is also an English teacher who believes that our experiences teach us more than any test. She is the founder and co-editor of Good Little Girls.




She arrives once every 23 days crazy, blazing, like a tornado she takes it all down people, love, relationships– without prejudice. She cries during commercials,
Jealousy spreads in her veins dark, grimy, moves at the speed of light, destroys the walls of her veins,
Glistening spinach and Chorizo atop thick tender scallops arrive in front of me Saturday night. The plate sits next to the mason jar filled to
I place the paper boat on the water, Fingers lingering to support the transition from steady to moving And wait. She sways unsteady at first,