Almost Lover 


Your fingertips across my skin
The palm trees swaying in the wind
Images
You sang me Spanish lullabies
The sweetest sadness in your eyes
Clever trick 

‚ÄčListen to Almost Lover by Tosha Michelle 2020 #np on #SoundCloud

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Loving You

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Something sweet and romantic for a change. Gag. Kidding!!
____

Loving you is a Saturday
feeling and a Sunday stroll.
For you, the encrypted
become unencrypted.

You will never not love me,
even when our weekends turn into
Mondays.

Even when our photos
become monuments of us,
a still life of
sunlight and cedar,
the girl I was, abloom
in a field of beginnings.

Love that can’t hide
in a napkin, a coffee spill
or a blade of grass.

Liveable lives.
Forgivable.

Serene seas and mountains,
and the artifacts of
a champagne flute,
periwinkle shirts
and promises.

The litter of swoon
and our once in a
lifetime constellation.

-Tosha Michelle

Going Under

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The seasons change, we peel off our regrets
But still look for an opening in the air.
Love always leaves a residue, a stain.
The slate always slightly smudged.
Our hearts striations of clouds.
Memories come and go
with its fountain
of nostalgia flowing over
us without warning.
Blurring the landscape of
time until it unfolds back.
Dividing then from now.
Dividing soul from sanity,
until all that remains is an
oracle, an empty beach
dark waves of sorrow,
a tide long since receded and
an icy wind blowing in yearning
from yesterday’s yesteryears

-Tosha Michelle

Seasoning the Seasons

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Remember youth, eating pizza at 3 a.m. and wearing t-shirts that declared anarchy? Remember the blind faith in yourself and the world? Looking back, I want that innocence. I want more of the sun, the garden, the high notes. I want time to stay green. Maybe if I pretend I can’t see it. I’ll be the ship sailing on an ocean of oblivion, not yet knowing I’m at the horizon’s mercy.

Is it really about time, though, or my desire for time? Do I want to spend my life avoiding the clock’s vibrations?

Come rest by me, take my hand and we’ll watch day stumble into evening. As I look into your soulful eyes. I think perhaps, I don’t want to be young again. Maybe it’s better if we invite every tragedy, and wisdom learned to sit here beside us. I want maturity rolling on our tongues when our mouths mate. I want the years naked between us, drinking from our wine.

Maybe, as we rest here in the stillness of twilight, the sky will open for us, showering us with petals and what we don’t want to see will seem softer, tender. And we’ll welcome whatever comes next with our t-shirts of wisdom, knowing there are still horizons yet to unfold.

-Tosha Michelle

The Darkness

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I feel a darkness coming on.
The build up is always the
worst part. The shadow
of depression sneaking
up on
me. Breathing down
my neck. I know it won’t
be long until it falls on
me, tethering my spirit
to a barren tree. The
landscape flatten
Nothing is flourishing
The devil stands near
by holding his pitchfork
of sorrow. Smirking
as he plots new
calamities for fragile
spirits like mine,
not a fundamentalist
in sight.
I lie down on the
ground.. I surrender
to the darkness.
For today, there
is no escape.
The empty glass
is broken, the
ticking clock is
silence. When I
awake, I will look
for a way out.
Knowing the
darkness can
never hold me
for too long.
The light in my
heart never
sinks. It just
hides like a
lost penny.
For now though,
I become less
and lesser.
Boneless,
empty, and
ready to go
I let the
taker, take me.