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.
Two vacations, both alike in dignity, In fair Springfield (where we lay our scene) From annual girls trips to surprising spouses, Where civilian illness and
I hold you and you close to my heart warm warmth gooey love against my chest tiny faces, racing heartbeats button noses similar to mine
Once upon a time in a country far east, two gals grew up– one north, one south Far, far away from one another. The one
Friday afternoon after an intense Pilates class, I walked over to Nickell’s & Scheffler for a quick snack. They had just finished preparing chili and