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.
Day 2: we laugh out loud, and reminisce about those days, those days…the ones that were just months ago, yet feel like decades ago. Those
Since I was a sixth grader, football has confused me. Back then I pretended to care and even stayed up to watch the Redskins win
Burning brightly through the window The sun’s ray cut into space Warming every inch Filling it to its brim Crackling kindly from below The fire