It’s Enough


It’s enough to just have
an idea about love.
Sometimes it’s rooted in
nostalgia, other times it’s
planted firmly in the now.
Regardless, we follow our
heartstrings through
the atmosphere even
if the notes make no sense.

We fall through sunlight
and burn ourselves out.
Dizzy with something unbridled
We don’t think about what the
sky might do
or how thw shadows might
distort or disappear.
We don’t count the moments
before we fell.
Or how the wild bees sting.
Above us. Below us, we just
see the blue hiding behind
the clouds.

Sometimes it’s enough to
just recall the days of
scarlet breasted birds
winging it, the scent of
honeysuckles, confetti winds
and lawn daisies
Knowing the Earth brightens
with just the idea of love.
And sometimes that knowing is enough.

Tosha Michelle

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Soul Keepers 


There are those people
who don’t need to look at you
to really see you.
They see you as you are.
Your lesser than moments
The sadness that is opulent
in you.

They’ll love you whether you’re
noteless or the feature story
written in the best of you,
whether your feet are sinking
in quicksand, or lost among dandelions
and slippery grass.

They’ll love your voice when it
deepens with life’s desire
or breaks with the frost of despair.
These are the ones who will
revive you when you’re barely alive.
When the sky loses it’s luster,
they’ll eat the clouds for you.

They’ll never be just a drifting
wind. or a splintering shadow,
a stray unimpressed with your
offering wandering off.
These people are your constants,
leaves that don’t flinch in the bitter air.
Forever entwined in your heart.
Immovable, no matter how much the branches
of your soul may shutter.

There are those people who
don’t need to look at you to
really see you.
They see you in the darkest
ravine or the midday sunlight of the pines.
These people are the backdrop
of your life, the stars who crown
you on your long walk home.
These are those you
sing the song of yourself too.
The ones who hear the potential
in every note.
And remind you of the words
when you forget how the
melody goes.

-Tosha Michelle 

And silliness and no makeup ensued.


And this song goes out to my cat of course. 😜💕

No Easy Bake 


It’s rarely ever simple for
men or women, even as
they lie entwined in bed.
Sharing their lives and secrets.
There’s always the flickering
of the night light,
stars catching flame overhead.
What is it that lovers need
to love endlessly, a flight map
of scars, the coordinates to
Neverland? What if
the compass is broken?
Can we draw another map.
In the morning we’ll venture
out beyond eggs and grits
to the edge of the moon
where it might be possible
for us to hold on or let go.

-Tosha Michelle

What Love Is

Cool Artsy Shoes

Love isn’t
a weekend in Belize.
It’s not flattery.
Rarely, the perfect fit.
It isn’t cake and schnapps
or a walk by the river
with Thoreau

Love is
a photograph cropped,
rearranged, often marred
It’s an arsenal of joy,
of pain, a loaded gun
Locked, fired, reloaded,
fired again.

It’s salty, gritty
rarely sweet, at times solid
at others, a noddle slip
off a chopstick.
It’s a Rorschach test
a complex algorithm
disordered thoughts

Films never get it right.
Songs sometimes do.

Love is
difficult,
a chalkboard lesson,
in Mechanics and
Special Relativity

Love is
a Dixie cup
full of gin
the brush of angel’s wings
horse’s hooves in hell

Love is
true.
Seldom,
but when it is,
it wears sensible shoes.

-Tosha Michelle

He Never Loved Me

Reckless Heart

What the wise doubt, the fool
believes-
Who is it, then, that love
deceives?
-Louise Bogan


He never loved me.
where others saw a nightingale
to him, I was just a fractured claw.
Still, I gave him the gift of song

He never loved me,
yet he came into my life
trumpets blaring, the way
cream falls over coffee
on a cold December morning.

I wanted to compose him in
in sunlight, instead it was
a melody full of rain.
The sound of something injured,.
a sky broken by ash,.
The wind exhaling regret
only hinted of brighter things

He never loved me.
His heart always
lying in the tense past.
which he saw as tender.
Our future nothing more
than stick figures sitting by
nostalgia’s tree. Me grieving
for him. His mind always
on another.

The after…

Nowadays the raindrops have
arranged themselves in
a pattern of forgetfulness
My misplaced heart finding
purchase in a blade of grass
that breathes life into the
whole landscape.
How lovingly those with eyes
open prepare the earth for
love’s sake.

The gentle brush of lips
across my forehead
reminds me that their still
summertime tunes to be sung.
My lungs alive with promise
My ears no longer attuned
to darknesss.

-Tosha Michelle

Dawn

We are always in the midst
of letting go of something
or someone.
Untying knots
Finger by finger.

Watching as the leaf whirls
in the wind across the grass
into the air.
The sky opaque resists.

We keep searching for
what might have been,
not realizing the beauty in
what is or could be.

The scent of his cologne.
The strong arm around
your shoulder.
His finger around a lock
of your hair.
The uninterrupted gaze that
you missed while your eyes
were on another.

The gift of rapt attention.
You finally see the light’s
transformation in the beauty
of his eyes.
Looking back no more at
the unintended one.
Just a imitation you
mistook as real.
Only stars in your head
after a fall.

The possibilities of love
become endless when
there’s hope of being love
in return
The eve of a new beginning
Giving birth to the life
you were meant to live.

-Tosha Michelle

Beginnings

Kiss me that hard,
that deep.

Punctuate the sentence of us
with your tongue.

Make a victim of the air
with your hands.

Dance with me until I can’t
stop sparking to your drumbeat
thighs and comprising hips.

Let your lightning enter and defile me.
Douse me with the sweat of roses

Write me over in thorns and
petal blossoms.

Let the bees pollinate

Honeyed and satiated.
I come unhinged.

-Tosha Michelle