Infatuation such a futile thing
when the world is distorted
through a rose colored mist.
Blurred edges The landscape
formed through nostalgia’s lenses
Everything in soft focus.
.
Infatuation such a soulless thing
devoid of sovereign reason,
when the God you seek,
is an illusion..not to be believed,
in a heaven made of cardboard dreams
painted with muted time.
She left on an orange blossom morning.
with a suitcase full of forget me nots
and a map of the stars.
trotting down an uncharted path.
Singing a tune.
she misplaced long ago.
Taken the bridge out of Eden.
over a river of forgotten dreams.
Seeking solace and shade
under a willow tree.
melting into spring green and new beginnings.
I Loved Him.
by Tosha Michelle
I loved him once.
the boy with summer in his eyes.
I wanted to offer him the luster of asbestos
to stroke the flames of an autumn fire.
Instead I watched him fall.
into a bed of thorns.
Sharpen and ready.
waiting for the unwise.
He lay before me.
bleeding poison.
adorned in the pains and wounds
of a love untouched
a rosebud erased.
Cover me in your mesmerizing verse.
You words kiss my skin.
I’m lost in lyrical bliss.
Intoxicated by your rhyme.
Pulsating with your rhythm.
Recite your ballad between the chords of my legs.
Your anointed tongue
licks the core of my soul.
Stroking and coaxing my emotions.
Tangled up in the wildness of poetic expression.
I come undone.
-Tosha Michelle
“how sad and bad and mad it was – but then, how it was sweet”
― Robert Browning
Nostalgia echoes
Chattering for the past.
I try to grasp the reminiscence notes.
The melody is bittersweet.
I dance with memories in my hallucinating solitude.
My scars are bare. A testament to what once was.
What could have been scratches and picks at them.
Bleeding for the remains of love, buried in a transcendent alcove.
The devils hide there taunting the mind.
Only satiate when I drown in grief
and choke on the ashes of yesterday.
-Tosha Michelle
My thoughts are trapped in my head.
The elevator is missing.
My muse has fallen down the shaft.
The ink in my pen is running dry.
The page remains blank.
The words are dead.
I don’t desire to be the other half of your soul.
I want to be the one who prompts you to remember
that you are already whole.
-Tosha Michelle
How do you live inside your one sided parasitic brain?
To you the world is black and white.
No room for blues or grays.
You capitalize on people’s fear
Distorting the truth with lies
The spin starts here.
-Tosha Michelle
It Kind of Is.
By Tosha Michelle.
Miley and Nietzsche had it right.
It’s all about the climb.
I’ve charted many a mountain.
Hanging only by a thread.
Hope found in a spider’s web.
My limbs have felt like lead.
With bloody knuckles and knees.
Bruises for all to see.
I’ve ran into jagged impermeable stone.
Yet I rose higher and higher.
Fighting against the hourglass.
And dreams lost
I climbed.
Dragging myself toward the light.
Testing my worth.
I reached the summit in time to see
The dawning of the sun.
The breeze reborn, fresh as a new day.
I breathe in the substance of faith.
Exhaling doubt.
The soft snow blankets the ground.
I stop along the road.
Reaching toward the sweet bliss falling down.
My soul gets lost in the winter wonder.
Skipping like a child across a mystic white river.
Carefree, Basking in the invisible freedom
Dancing as the trees smile in the stillness.
I bow to a December moon so clear and cold
The icy hands of time forces me to keep moving on.
-Tosha Michelle
Everything I Never Told You 