Tosha Michelle Talks About “Everything I Never Told You”

The lovely Roberto was gracious enough to invite me to participate in an interview for his blog.  It was truly an honor. I had to laugh at his literary greats comment though. How very kind and humorous.

El Noticiero de Alvarez Galloso

In my series of interviews with bloggers and writers, I invited Tosha Michelle of the WordPress blog “Everything I Never Told You” to be interviewed and she accepted. It is great to have one of the literary greats of the 21st Century and to discuss diverse subject matters.


Tosha Michelle is the author of “Confessions of a Reformed Southern Belle: A Poet’s Collection of Love, Loss, and Renewal” and  “Self Help to Self Harm : The Dubious Guide To Life, Love, and Relationships”. We are now going to get started.


Tosha: I hope everything is well with you. Everything is great especially since I wanted to interview you about your blog. Here are the ten questions which you can answer within a week at your own time.

1. What is the purpose of “Everything I Never Told You“?


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Alternate Endings

I always shut the door on the past,
but forget to lock it.
I still find hope in the
alternate endings, written
but yet to be shot.
My gauzy veil gets
caught in the closing
curtain every time.
I compose yesterday
in my poetry.
I find solace in fastening
myself to what was.
Binded to moments long gone.
I write text to loosen the memories,
to dissolve the unrest
inside of me.
The undertone of melancholy,
my favorite feeling,
lingers in the emphatic prose.
For a poem, I fall back
into what was.
Then I put the pen down
and give myself to the now.
Letting the presence remain
perched for the here,
on my shoulder.
Hoping, one day words
will linger in today.

Tosha Michelle 

You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me…

but you better Ha!

Hello everyone. It’s time for another cover. This one goes out to the lovely and artistic Benjamin. He’s also a wonderful writer. He kind of has a bad boy vibe going but in a sensitive way. If you get a chance check out his blog at

You’ll love it.

And now for the song My version of Dusty Springfield’s “You Don’t Have to Say You Love Me

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

Unseeable World

I am of catastrophic mind,
besotten with the invisible world
where shadows go to hide.
Blue is an alchemy and serenity
scarce. Great sorrows lead
to greater regrets.

From the outside looking in
the window of my world, it would seem
my being has been charmed like
the sky on a sunny, spring day.
Most of my life I’ve taken consuls
with melancholy and consorted with darkness.

Some nights I paint happiness
into the scene, and for a time
the leafless vista is colored
with gold. But soon enough
I’ll drink from the chalice
with the elixir for joy in it.
Stepping over contentment
back into my unseeable world.

-Tosha Michelle



I saw you in the morning
from the window of my
running to catch the train
You were wearing your
famous blue shirt, which
is really more green.
You smiled at the
pretty brunette to
your left. Distracted
by her beauty,
you almost tripped
boarding the train.
You were headed to
work. Your man purse
slung over your
Your hair slightly
in that sexy
way that your hair
It reminded me
of my heart
always slightly a wreck,
and in disray over you.
As I was daydreaming
your train pulled away.
Then there was just
the hazy, gray sheen
of the morning, like
unpolished sliver and
the steep buildings
that blended into the
dullness of the sky.

It was you, and the
disappearing train
which shaped the
Departure and
The journey and
the destination..
It is here
our narrative
Leaving the narrator
behind with a memory
that lingers and loves
without reason.
Tosha Michelle 

For Mr. Modigliani

Hello lovely people. Below is my latest cover. This is dedicated to the dashing and dapper Mr. Modigliani If you aren’t follow him, shame on you. If you enjoy erotic poetry, beautiful art and insightful musings, his weblog is for you and you and you and yes, even you.

and now for my caterwauling

and for some real coolness