“Everytime I think of you, I always catch my breath
And I’m still standing here, and you’re miles away
And I’m wonderin’ why you left
And there’s a storm that’s raging
through my frozen heart tonight”
My cover of “missing You” by John Waite (For Alex)
Find him here:
Let’s take the sun and leave
the rain for other minds.
Let the light go straight
to the center of our brains.
Linger on the green grass
of a happier life. Home free,
but not homeless.
Let’s live in the world
inside of us where nothing can be lost.
Someplace where it’s always autumn and
there are plenty of leaves to break our fall.
Just you and me where’s there’s no them or they.
Showing the hollowed out existence,
the slamming screen door.
No longer waiting on the light
to save us but shining our
own brilliance. Knowing
if the light ever finds us,
we’ll light its way.
-Tosha Michelle
When I finally emerged
from my hibernation,
the light had long
since moved on.
My image transcending the sidewalk
as I shed my winter coat.
I looked down through the stars,
the earth no longer beckoning me.
The voices of a thousand
nightingales singing hopefully,
stirring the air like cream.
I sit nestled in the arms of the trees,
tipping my hat to the wrens and willows.
All life’s little delicacies are stored away
in my knapsack for later. As I descend
into the night the moon begins to glow,
alighting the darkness like a thousand
movie screens. In the distance a
church bell rings, and for a moment
I don’t feel so alone.
-Tosha Michelle
I am less than.
My insignificance a common thing.
I’m a particle of dust but even I
sparkle in certain light.
At night I float around pages
filled with words that
no one will remember.
I sing a melancholy tune.
Bare and ruined.
I pray to the God of dust bunnies,
who is adored or loathed by all
the other particles.
Everyday we lift up our dusty eyes
to the ceiling, hoping for a skylight
to reveal the heavens. All the while
awaiting our death sentence by rag.
Resigned to our fate we conversed
with the ashes and await our downfall.
-Tosha Michelle
There’s no hiding place left
for my soul.
The dark spaces have all been
lit, filled with a warm glow.
My flesh radiates heat, my skin
alive. My eyes giving me away.
Should I run? Try and find a dark alley
somewhere? The street lights shaped
like hearts seem to say “be still”.
But I’m afraid. I want to close my eyes.
But I know I’ll just end up peeping.
Finally believing in the voice I hear counting.
Knowing I don’t want to be invisible anymore.
I’m ready to be found.
-Tosha Michelle
Sometimes the air around us is foreign.
Our lungs adopting to the atmosphere.
Knowing. Unknowing. We await
as the intervals thicken or thin.
Will the air become audible?
Will the seasons brighten or dim?
Do we lay store or forge ahead?
Is it enough to seek answers to questions
or is the living in the doing?
A thought held close built around another
thought is of no use if it sits braced to
a chair reluctant to breathe the air.
-Tosha Michelle
Sometimes when the world and people become too much to take
I develop winter brain: a sort of icy mindfulness
where I embrace the chill and long to hibernate
with the bears, while the snowbird helicopters
over the frozen lake harassing the air and
frost bite lingers on my soul.
My heart a solid ice sheet hasn’t a care.
I inhale the silence while the palest of
green fights to break through.
For a moment at least, I remain
as cold and calm as the
white of the snow overspread
on the ground.
-Tosha Michelle
“And the songbirds are singing,
Like they know the score,
And I love you, I love you, I love you,
Like never before.”
My cover of Songbird, Many thanks to my friend Danny for the piano accompaniment
I’m honored to be the featured blogger of the month over at my friend Robert’s site. Robert is a talented artist and writer. Please check out his work.
She carried his image like a cherish photograph- a handsome man dressed in a soft, faded sweater, blue jeans, and loafers, standing on the beach in a seaside town on the last day of November. The sky hinting at something brighter. There was hope but no chance. The sun mournfully hid behind the clouds. The seductive and perilous waves tried to shake the image.
The image would not fade. It was the eve of the other life she would never live. In the years to follow, she would return, her heart trying to translate what was never meant to be. Her singular salvation of faded dreams and a man she loved well once, lost to the seasonal tides of life and the fatal missteps of fate out of time.
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 