A Place to Rest


Every time love has visited me it has been accompanied by a death spirit. Leaving behind the chill of isolation. Yet, I know I have been blessed to love, to have loved.  After heartache, after lesson learned in tears, the chest becomes less tight, the soreness fades.

I long to look at love in a new way, while standing in its light, to be caught in its sight, to gaze up and see Orion shining.  to be joined in a long continuance. The hard candies of granite and bone. I long to live alongside love in the fervor of hope, in the heard, seen, and finally fathomable power of a soul held in place.

I want to feel the brush of love’s tenderness,  to remember the constellations I once dreamed upon. I long for a vocabulary built on the promise of truth, in a world where I know the language like I know home, residing on a strong foundation that can  prevail in the sweetness of the summer harvest and in the noon frost of winter. 

Give me a love I can dwell in. I’ve had it with uninhabitable beauty. I desire a place that suits me, a place to rest where I can finally tear the footbridge down

Tosha Michelle

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26 thoughts on “A Place to Rest

  1. Finding a happy or at least, content love is a difficult. Love can be so up and down that finding a place you can just rest and find peace in the love of someone else is hard. Especially when you learn through time a partner can’t be trusted or the love changes and doesn’t exist as love anymore. It’s good to have experienced love but sometimes I think we realize looking back that what love we experienced isn’t the permanent kind, not the kind that lasts and is dependable. Lovely prose.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. 💕 This is a beautiful piece. Tosha, with all the power I’ve come to know and feel.
    I’m a little ashamed to admit, just being content with my own peace of mind, this day and age seems like enough. Knowing, when love is right, there is no better feeling to be had.
    Maybe there’s no energy left to deceive the death spirit, again. In hopes to make something wonderful happen. Weary of the sacrifices turning to ash in my hands. The longing and the tears both have a job.
    I can see a place, where the truth and wisedom are anchored in the soul. The fertile grounds of a fruitful bond. Maybe? Yet, a place we earned, to own. 💙

    Liked by 1 person

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