Breathe. I instruct. Turn the paparazzi flashes off.
Breathe. And listen, grab the handles tight.
Feel. Their rough edges inside your palm, painting callouses onto virgin skin.
Don’t. Let your body, mind be dragged behind you, ripping to shreds like stewed chicken.
Breathe. And see that tiny dim light–light years away, forty light years away. Channel all your fight towards that star.
Because blood sheds before new skin.
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.
Today I greeted an old friend and it made miss, long for the past—all those too hot summers and pool side reads, the softer winters
It started with crossword puzzles. I enjoyed working on them during my commute, to help my brain wake up in the mornings. I appreciated their