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.
Brought upon by difference I breathe out fire, inhale ice a fusion. I am a sculpted body of powerful thoughts just waiting to be Plucked,
Illustration by Jill Kimura The Back Alley of The Subconscious by Celeste Bloom when you’re homesick, you can close your eyes and hear the whispers