Love is a Unicorn From Hell


I first posted this poem back in September of 2015.

“Let’s get lost, in a romantic mist”
I’m mad about you.
Lock me away
in your sanatorium
Make me your inmate.
No opiate needed
Just Pavlov’s reflex and
Plath’s bell jar
brimming with malaise

“Let’s defrost in a romantic mist”
We could fall into fast love
Buy lottery tickets
Gamble our savings away in Vegas
Eat dessert and cake for breakfast
Topple from a tall building.
Fall into a broken story

Act like the savages
Walk instead of drive
Collect vinyl records
Slow dance to Miles and Chet
Read Tennyson, Poe, and Whitman

Make love until our brains fall out
Until everything is blurred
Time is reset
The gravy ‘s all gone
And it’s “Now what?” “FINE” and “Oh well

You’ve got a splinter in your thumb
I’ve broken a tooth on crushed ice
Nirvana is reshaped and bent and
Dystopia is all that is left

“Mmm, let’s get lost, oh oh, let’s get lost”

-Tosha Michelle

74 thoughts on “Love is a Unicorn From Hell

  1. Bonsoir jeune fille TOSHA
    Je viens te chanter un air d’amitié
    Celui-ci ,je l’ai écouté et je viens te le fredonner

    Mon chant d’amitié
    Celui sait transformé en une douce mélodie
    Dans ses mots on pouvait entendre le refrain

    Belle soirée à toi et ta famille

    Une belle semaine
    avec une bise de douceur

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Your ex and my ex should date, so long as we get to be the flies on the wall watching it tumble away.

    You pulled out a lot in this one. Such vocabulary from all over the place. Incredible:)


  3. First, you seized my attention with that fantastic title — and then your poem built on the title by delivering the rush and madness of being deeply in love. A great write.

    Liked by 2 people

  4. Getting lost has its appeal. Like finding a long straightaway to nowhere in the middle of the night, rolling down the windows, and putting the pedal to the metal…but being found can be even better. The slow drive down country roads with the radio blaring and your foot hanging out of the passenger window. The private late night picnic in the bed of a truck, gazing up at the stars in complete silence. Not as exhilarating as going for broke, but when you realize you are both mysteries unraveling together it is magic. Sorry for such long winded commentary. I really enjoy your poetry.

    Liked by 3 people

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