I keep waiting, finger hovering over the delete button,
Inside I know it’s time, cut the ties, leave the memories,
But my anger fills my eyes, runs down my cheeks and I wade through the thick swamp of who am I and will you see me?
Will I see me?
So I leave my finger shaking just over that delete button,
Not taking action, even though my mind clearly states: delete, just delete.
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.
Soft orange. Deep, silky flavors graze my tongue and fill it with sweet, roasted squash soup. Few soups have the depth of flavor. Few soups
All the “should haves” pile up: one on top of the other and blind my vision. I stare at the cards I’ve been dealt, my
The bright green trees blurred as they passed my window. I could see them through my peripheral, guardians always there. I placed my finger in