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.
Just as I was about to hit the power button on my television last night, I got a text from a friend informing me that
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
Will You–ever know the long ass journey it took on two Pan Am flights, the gapping loss I felt, the foreign tastes that I couldn’t