She sits atop her throne, spinning
A double-edged string of sharp remarks,
they flow in a train
Compartment after compartments of you are not good enough’s
and no one cares for you
and you’re lying to yourself, if you think you were important to them.
Slicing open ancient wounds that have barely healed
She sits atop her throne, never satiated, always hungry
feeding on my open wounds.
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.
With a bruised thumb and index finger I draw a line—thin— in hopes that it will widen, between you and me. But it’s dotted, at
Full. I am full, overflowing Content. So content After just hours of giggles and board games with two The two who own both sides of
Each sunny day, I jog downstairs with my lunch bag and sit at the same park bench in the courtyard. The one drenched in sunlight;
Last week I went to my first Kundalini Yoga class. The instructor kept saying that Kundalini Yoga is about balance. I love this idea of