What you have is a loud in my face kind of life that can cut, slice my flesh open
I still walk, upright, one foot at a time, a trail of burgundy behind me—the only evidence of the hurt
It is easy to remain on this lower rung, while you tower above me, seemingly carrying all that you want and all that I should want
I still stand, upright, feet grounded, the dust on my hair the only evidence of inadequacy.
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.
In time you will see, all the tiny rocks that you collect in your pockets they won’t weigh you down, but instead will build you
Today I stood at the edge of the atlantic with my feet under salty water where sky blends into ocean and clouds sail overhead in
Once upon a time, There were two hotels: the Waldorf and the Astoria from the family of Astor A premiere hotel Was born from the