Words, Interrupted

If I write it down
I can’t take it back.
When I’m gone, and
the wind of your world
is still scented with
my verse, what then?

Who will I be to you?
a bittersweet arrangement
of molecules only legible
under certain nostalgic light?
The tug of your heart, of
what might have been?

If your voice fails you
give them my words.
Tell them this is how
she adored me,
with syntax and lyrical sighs,
bleeding emotions.
The wingspan of her poetry.

I dressed you only
in the sun, too far gone
to halt our ending, but still
close enough for you to cling
to the last bit of light.

You’ll find me somewhere
lost between the pages of
your life. Sitting on an
endless porch swing singing
the blue notes.

The language never quite finished.
The language;never quite done.

Tosha Michelle


56 thoughts on “Words, Interrupted

  1. Love this poem about “dressing” readers in the “sun” and and being “lost btw the pages” of the readers life but not really known. Just words they adore that get through life, help. Without them realizing the reality of the speakers life, what she experienced and went through. It made me think of Emily Dickinson poetry. How we can read about her life but not really know her personal thoughts abc struggles. The same with so many writers and poets.
    Hope all is well 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Dear Tosha,

    This was a wonderful read. Your words are so well used.
    With your permission I would love to feature this poem in my new magazine Poetry & Poverty which you can see details of on my page. We are currently drafting our first edition and sorting through content. This really caught my eye.
    If it may be a possibility, you can email me on the address given on my page. I would be really excited to your work, you are pretty amazing :). Thank you. N.F.M

    Liked by 1 person

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