At times, I breathe ice
cold smoke pillows out with each exhale, no fire can melt this breath of lone ice.
At times, I breathe fire
gray smoke escapes my nostrils,
I exhale truth, a truth of liquid flames
—a windstorm of longing to belong.
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 sit on the empty banks of the my island, edge of the cliffs, waves slamming into rock borders I’ve carved with my own blood
I am eight years old, sitting on the toilet, eyes squeezed just, pee dripping out–afraid. Afraid that if I pee too fast, my vagina will
They. They are to blame for your false sense of knowledge and power. they give you so much power, and you. you glide upwards, a