“And you throw your head back laughing like a little kid
I think it’s strange that you think I’m funny ’cause he never did
I’ve been spending the last eight months
Thinking all love ever does is break and burn and end
But on a Wednesday in a cafe I watched it begin again”
Crafting
The only light worth having
is the light you have to work for.
I try and find it in my craft.
But sometimes I’m angry with
words- the pen- the paper- the
storm scape inside my head.
Yet I write best in restless hues.
Red with an undercoat of black.
I grasp for understanding.
I look but can’t see.
Clarity is a lie told by the
mentally sane. I sit at my desk
a labyrinth of doubt, trying to find
the middle ground between dark and
a glimmer of unfurling light.
Knowing joy is unsustainable
but knowing what I do not know.
-Tosha Michelle
For You
For you, I would paint
the undercoat of grey
a cheery yellow.
We would live well
in a settled blue,
touched by fiery red.
I would give you words
to eat, starting from
scratch. Syllables that
teach us how to be happy,
how to negotiate with
dark clouds.
For you, I would gloss
the vernacular of porn
stars, and crack the night
open with anatomy,
and backseat geography.
Unbuttoned periwinkle
shirt, pants flying off.
I’d be the force of nature
you saw God in.
a piece of light that turns
to a flame.
I’d take you where we
could water the moon.
Two celestial wonders
finding a new constellation.
Alive and quivering in
the unknown.
For you, I would offer
my fractured soul and
a flight map of scars
I’d give you my outlaw
truths, the real story,
and a fresh love
devoid of pipe smoke.
I would give you days
made entirely of lilacs
and grapes.
Together we would relearn
how to claim the drumbeat
and rise like a dove,
just winging it.
-Tosha Michelle
My cover of “Falling Slowly” One of my favorite songs.
Missing You
“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:
We Create Our Own Happiness
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
Upon Awakening
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
Miniscule
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
Lyrical
He says I’m storm water
and chocolate cake.
The hot static of hair being
brushed.
I say take me in your arms
and speak your proverbs
upon me.
I watch him undress, his hands
soild verbs. I turn away to keep
my sanity.
By the time he touches my shoulders
delirium and lightening have set in.
-Tosha Michelle
Of Trains and Beautiful Men
The man on the train
accidentally touches
my hand and in that instant
a dogwood leaf lands
on the rain kissed glass.
It flinches against the
window pane.
The man is distinguished,
in his elegant suit and
periwinkle shirt.
I can tell he is
used to being admired
by women.
The leaf makes its way
up the glass.
I can feel the warmth
of his thigh
as it rubs up against
mine with every thrust
of the train.
I would be so proud
if he were mine.
Our eyes connect. Hold.
His pulling me forward
His face is tender.
I imagine he believes in
Shakespeare, distant ships,
stray winds, Miles Davis,
the sweet sound
of needle to
groove.
I bite my lip to keep
from moving closer.
I want the warmth
of his name
in my mouth.
There’s an erotic energy
between us.
He reduces me to ashes,
I never want to brush
off.
What if we started
a conversation?
What if he gave himself
over to me?
What if he touched me
there and there?
The trees sway and
blur in the window.
The clouds look like satin
sheets we could lie in.
His beauty makes
my eyes ache.
His full lips, a glazy
pastry’s crust.
He jolts against me,
his arm brushes my breast,
I become a shivering thing
as the train comes to
a stop.
He wears me out
and I don’t even
know his name.
-Tosha Michelle
My second attempt at “Use Somebody”- Kings of Leon Cover.
Ready
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
Everything I Never Told You 