Her words
And hers
And hers…
They are a cage, always reminding me of what’s not there.
My words
And mine
And mine
And ours…
They are a map: black and white instructions on how to escape, how to flip my sights from empty to full, how to live my life…
Instead of hers and hers and hers.
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.
The Potomac sparkled, reflecting the early afternoon light. Crisp Autumn wind flipped my hair straight up, above my head. I silently walked the labyrinth at
Wispy strands of air whip my body, a gentle massage only a winter’s morn can provide; I tilt my chin up into the brilliant blue
The sharp scent of chlorine winds its way to my nostril. It’s not a gentle greeting, nothing here is. No. But, I know this choreography