Used to be that weekends were my refuge, my resting place, my recharge station
When did they become the other? Filled with mysteries, I obsess to solve in my head letting thin slimy threads slip out now and then
Used to be that evenings, I couldn’t wait for, bouncing the minute that key jiggled in the lock, a puppy awaiting her owner
When did they become a dreaded period? hours immersed in fears I can’t escape. A constant state of restraint from my desires.
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.
I am–but damn I try hard not to be– I am yet anotha girl manipulated into—cornered into enabling your male privileged ass That one who
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
Illustration by Wendy Nogales Scream is the Heart’s Pound Prolonged by Rosa Parhizkar The sound of rockets hit my ears at a rooftop dinner table.