Upon Reaching for the Sky


Inside her pocket
she keeps letters
she’ll never send,
and long lists.

She sits at the vanity,
brushing serenity out
of her golden hair.

Listening to lost rain
that’s surly meant to fall
anywhere but here.

Somewhere already green
and lush.

Her mind grieving winter brown

It’s February.

If she mailed her letters
and shared her lists,
who would read them?

She asked for a cup
of tears
The liquid burns
her tongue.

She listens for the
soft cadence of his voice.

Her heart repeats its inquiry.

Memories and reality

-Tosha Michelle


63 thoughts on “Upon Reaching for the Sky

  1. I wish I could take a peek in that pocket. As I know there are many in mine, that will never be read. It’s not a matter of stamps… It’s knowing it will never matter. And that’s the hardest part. I wonder myself, why did I write what didn’t make me feel better. I just want you to know, I’m listening.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. You’re words are always so god damn beautiful.

    You put the perfect ones right next to their perfect accomplices…

    And I never have any problem feeling and understanding the emotion under the surface.

    Beautiful, Tosha. It’s a word that is commonplace in our circles but it defines what you do perfectly for me.


    Liked by 1 person

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