I hate people for
everything and nothing, but
each night it’s vapor
and I am me again.
The hate is a pile of ashes
I’ve burned through for now
by
honoring feelings
that I’ve been taught to bury.
Still
I rise
a woman
who feels.
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.
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
I wear my fingers out into the coldBare, pleading winter air to cool the stabs of heatTo calm the thin acid between my finger bones
Two years ago we commenced–one vignette a day And now…everything has changed, life happened still every now and then, we have chats like that night.