Everything I Never Told You

Confessions of a Reformed Southern Belle-The Unbound Edition


An Introvert Goes to a Party.


Tonight, I’d rather be home
getting lost in antique spines.
Craving the casual, yoga pants
and T-shirt. .Ditching this party
and dress. I can’t relate to
razzle dazzle, hoity toity
The desire for loud. My
symphony has always
been quiet.

These people
are a splinter in my isolated
hope chest for one. They
are a complex Allegory of
celebratory nothingness
Outward they glimmer
Inward, just a flicker.

I’m my own mistress of
distraction, mapping out
a poem in my head,
as some fool
in a too tight corset
tells me stories
about her latest boyfriend
who has a love for the
voluptuous and shallow.
The latter is just
an assumption on my

As the clock ticks
inside my head,
sounding more
like bedtime, bedtime,
than tick tock. I note
the exit, I must reach
it before I’m tempted
to try hemlock.

I escape into wallpaper
border and sit down by
a napping cat. I stencil
my name on a gravestone
of banality and toss my
party dress off a bridge

I dissolve into particles
of light and reemerge in
bathwater of blessed
tranquility. I find kismet
with my bath mate, the
one I love-Solitude

We celebrate lavender and
quiet things. Afterwards,
I put on a night gown
of silence and
climb under a blue
comforter, under the
bluest of moon.
Finding serenity
in the stillness

-Tosha Michelle




I have hazel eyes.
Let’s assume
for this poem
his were blue.
That sickening
shade of too
pretty blue.
You know the
kind that women
get lost in or
some cliché
like that.

He had women
of every description
They never tired
of his discourse
or his bedside
tricks. Magic they
said, too enraptured
to notice he never
took his hat off.

He was always
bitching about the
harpies beating
on the door
Trying to dislodge
the shingles from
his roof of

Did I mention his
eyes were a
misogynistic blue?

Yet, he always
another harpie,
and then
and just one,
no, two more.

Pose struck. Happy
to be their God of full
frontal. As long as
he reigned over
a kingdom where
the women came
with pulleys and
tight wires of
rope, he could
manipulate and

Did I mention his eyes
were blue- like the
coldest shade of

Never alone on
Valentine’s Day blue

Never heard of
commitment blue.

The kind of blue
that make women
blue. Drop a Valium
in a shot of gin
blue. Hose to
tailpipe blue.

I look in the mirror
and see eyes,
mostly green with
flecks of dead leaves.
Nowhere near as
mesmerizing as his,
but at least they
aren’t wishy washy
blue. Empty as my
icebox blue.

I take one last
look in the glass.
I see the soil of
ready to bloom
in fiery eyes
The rose of
resolve taking

I walk outside.
Broken slate
shingles cover
the barren grass.
A waterless stone
birdbath gives me
a gleaming, hopeful
look. The wind
whispers its
approval. I take
a breath, nod to
both, kick a few
shingles and walk

These hazel
eyes are done
with his blue.

-Tosha Michelle


I Wish


I’m tired of being love’s
recruit. I want to enlist
in hate

I wish there was a dose
of something that would
make me care less.

I’m tired of doing math, I
forgot a long time ago.

Tonight, I want to get
wrecked and call it

I want to sleep on the
deathbed of empathy.
and be reborn a cynic.

Instead, I’ll wake
tomorrow. Victory
sinking and thinking
love is as necessary
as a soul patch to
a hipster.

Never content to let
it rest. Always trying
to stitch it and people
back together.

Always a sucker
for Mahler and his

Always in tune with
the birds weeping
in the trees.

Never content to
hide in dark places
with the moon.

Always making
something out of
nothing that
isn’t there.

-Tosha Michelle




I was always clingy
with my boyfriends.

I never really knew
my biological father.
He left when I was

I never got a bad grade.
I did the right thing, but
not evey time.

I never told my mother
about that time I snuck
out to meet my first

The fault that is never
mine, but always is

The feeling I get when
I get something right.
The despair I get when
I don’t.

I’m not okay with being
alone, but I crave

There is an exact ratio
of sugar and tea in
every glass I drink.

I hold onto books,
even the ones I don’t
read anymore.

I’m always nervous
in new situations. I
worry about being

I get excited over
vintage anything,
but mostly dresses
that sway on my

I like how his eyes
stay on my form
wherever I wear one.

I spent $123 dollars
today at the Antique
Mart. I bought a lovely
Mod Print Dress and
a sequins party dress.

I don’t like parties.
or sequins.

The number of time
I obsess over anything,
over nothing.

The way I hoard my
relationship and worry
he will forget me.

I purposely call him
just to make sure he
is home.

How much I hate
doing this.

How much I
hate doing this.

-Tosha Michelle



Tosha Michelle:

My friend Jane just started a photography blog. Her photos are magnificent. I really hope you will check out her work and follow. She’s a wonderfully complex person. Her photos reflect that. She has an eye for beauty and all things artistic.

Thank you kindly

Originally posted on Perceptions-Photography by Jane:

While I was walking by, I thought to myself……….who is being kept in and who is being kept out.


View original


The Grudge


I watered the grudge with a
fervent devotion of a priest
giving communion. I watered
it with the determination of
a drunk on his fourth glass
of gin. The destructive
clockwork of a not so
righteous self.

The cactus in my heart
erupting. I watered it everyday
with a can of venom. My hands
blistering over from the hate.
The fluid and its dark nutrients
taking root, until the petals
bloomed over and clotted my
brain, until there was nothing
left but arid air, laced with
regret, and the silence of
time wasted. The stale
taste of a garden grown
on the wreckage of malice
Gone. The long reign of
bitterness. The tight reign
of hurt feelings. The shards
of anger, shaken from my
eyes. I finally see the sterile
landscape clearly.

How the realization stings.

-Tosha Michelle




On nights when sleep has ran
off with my sanity, I lie in bed
and contemplate my fears, I
dwell on sentences left undone.
Conversations I wish I’d had,
The nights I’ve wasted not
dreaming. I wonder about
others like me, not sleeping.
Do they ponder the darkness
of our world? I think of those
without a place to rest.

I dwell on falling monuments
and fallen men. I wonder how
our hearts can break apart
and regenerate again.
What would it be like
to see everything at
once? Does God know?
Does he even exist?

I wonder how many days are
left in my life.? How many more
truths are left to reveal? Does
it even matter? We all fade to
nothing in the end. Don’t we?

I just want to rest now, to snuggle
in the arms of the one I love,
to kiss his mouth, to stop thinking,
to just say goodnight to the
shadows, the ticker tape parade
inside my head and those restless
souls like me……

awake and wondering.

-Tosha Michelle


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