Her words
And hers
And hers…
They are a cage, always reminding me of what’s not there.
My words
And mine
And mine
And ours…
They are a map: black and white instructions on how to escape, how to flip my sights from empty to full, how to live my life…
Instead of hers and hers and hers.
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.
5 pm, in the hair salon. A haggard face stares back, hair in tin foil, legs kicked up on a dirty, torn, burgundy ottoman. It’s
A silky-sweet, buttery-crisp scallop honors my tongue and I’m instantly nodding and embarrassingly “mmming” so the table next to me grows awkwardly silent. The plate
A tight spindle on sharp threads wind through every corner of her mind, slicing open ancient wounds–a perpetual pain machine unrelenting. Most would want it