Life is an imperfect story
And the poet leaves things out
My poem is telling.
But is it telling me?
Is my wordsmithing soulsmithing?
My pen taps on wood, in hopes of getting somewhere.
My mind uses words, as grapes uses wine
Glass by glass I pour myself
into the narrative
Endrunken wishes and longing,
secrets and half truth spill
red on the pages. revealing my broken
rain song, my ink crazed brains
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 
Pencilling good. 💕
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Aww thanks Tuxie
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❤
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how lovely… u have a way with words
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Thanks so much
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Reblogged this on John Cowgill's Literature Site.
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I often feel, like there is so much more I want to get out of my head and down on paper.I never seem to get the full heart of what is on my mind out.. just an observation. enjoyed reading this.
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Thanks. Keep writing xo
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I like this, I do. Long time, no see. I hope you’re just grand.
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Hello there. As grand as ever ❤️
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Beautiful, dear Tosha. “Here Comes The Rain Again” is one of my favorite songs.
Love & Hugs,
Ellie
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Thanks so much. It’s one of my favorites too Lots of love
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The song is fantastic. I’ve been listening to the band and her solo work the last few days. But your poem is better.
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Aww thanks. Her music is cool
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Ur wordsmithing is soulsmithing….no doubts dear
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Thank you kindly x
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U always welcome
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Nice piece of writing. This and “The City Never Sleeps,” 2 great Eurythmics tunes. Love the word “endrunken.” —CC
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Thank you kindly
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