Me and you everything
warm, oozing, always there love
raw, layered—a labyrinth
Of
stories upon stories
a brick wall, melding two separate lives into
a joint structure—
you and I everything
proof that independence does not equal solitude
we grind out our experiences
as different as they are, they mix into one shared experience
For
Me and you, we
Unsquashable love,
with steadfast ears we listen and listen
because
you and I everything.
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.
“We have to make a full tea set.”
“Okay, okay,” Pooja said. She dug deep into the soil to retrieve our clay. I waited patiently for her to show me her roll-and-bend technique to make the tiny handles for our teacups. We were artists, rolling clay into the tea cups to use for our pretend tea parties. We were hosts. We were sculptors. We were friends. I was her confidante. She told me about the boys who teased her for raising her hand in class. She confessed that she couldn’t wait to get her menses. She told what she thought that was. Her narratives made me feel more. More than six. More than a measly first standard student. When we were together in public, I carried myself taller, like her, chest out, spine straight.
The lid on my head is heavy, keeps me under a constant state of bringing to a boil. The comfort of this cycle is a