Not Quite Love in an Elevator

Published on by Tosha Michelle

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Some people keep in
touch via the phone,
the internet, weekly
lunch dates.

You keep in touch by
pissing me the hell off.
Lightening up our
elevator display
of toxicity until
we’re stuck between
floors.

Listen, do you hear that?
that’s my head lacerating
on the wall.

My sense of peace
fractured.
Go ahead pick the bone.
I’m done battling
scratched glass.
Drag me through it.

It’s time to rinse
off the anger,
and nail all 1483 of my
grievances to your
sanctimonious door.

Martin Luther and me
the grand reformers
He sowed in grace.
I’m more prone to
mace.

Maybe, I’ll just try to
lose you in a place
I’ll never find again.
Unraveling your
foothold or finding
mine, up your………

I’ll save the hair pulling
spear throwing, and
obscene gestures of
distain for terrorists
and guys named Tad.

I’ll just vent my anger
in a silly poem
Snide as my temper,
but light as numbers
with no equations,
letters missing
sentences, and a
poet whistling
satirically at madness.

-Tosha Michelle

34 thoughts on “Not Quite Love in an Elevator”

  9. I love, love, LOVE this, Tosha, It’s so dark, almost sentimental at times, and wholly honest. Brutal.

    These lines really resonate:

    Listen, do you hear that?
    that’s my head lacerating
    on the wall.

    My sense of peace
    fractured.
    Go ahead pick the bone.
    I’m done battling
    scratched glass.
    Drag me through it.

    It’s time to rinse
    off the anger,
    and nail all 1483 of my
    grievances to your
    sanctimonious door.

    Oh, and the humor, too:

    Maybe, I’ll just try to
    lose you in a place
    I’ll never find again.
    Unraveling your
    foothold or finding
    mine, up your………

    Liked by 1 person

    Reply

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