His shirt is devoid of him.
My dress is much too
pretty to put on.
This day is an easy
choice. Tomorrow,
might not be.

The flames fan to
a jar of splinters
we chopped the
night before. The
fire takes what is
giving freely (without

I choose to take the
heat in his eyes. I step
out of the shower.
and notices the sexy
message he left
for me on the mirror,
Now the glass is
less full of clean

We make our decisions
We become our choices
We become pleasure
We become pain.

Life with all it’s options.
Roads to choose.
Do we drift or stay
on course? Turn
forward? Turn back?

We make love and tea.
Pillows spill from the bed.
We roll around on the floor
wallowing in soot.
A mop is the only response

Dawn slivers through the
window and across our
bare skin.. The sun winks
at us through a wave of
white. The sky, tall and
blue, curtsies. Taunting
us through the window
pane. The sky and sun
knowing (of course) that
they are an easy choice.

-Tosha Michelle


Thin Mints and Unsent Letters


Sharing one of my older poems 
Love is often on a street
that only runs one way.
In the space between
stop and go. You think
if you stand still long
enough, he’s bound
to bump into you.

You wait with your
Doing painful logic
inside your head.
Charting your feelings
in an equation that
never adds up. No
wonder you never got
far in math.

You call out, and he
spits back a thousand
different tragedies.
The shaman in your
right ear says
“WTF, let it go”.
The leprechaun in
your left ear says
“Don’t stop now”.

You climb out of
the pothole you’ve
fallen into, saved by
a rope with a noose
on it.

You’re still alone.
Heart in the gutter.
You pick it up, dust
it off. The wilted
roses blowing
across the road.

You place one foot in
front of the other, only
to find you are on a
moving sidewalk
going nowhere.

You jump off and
hail a cab. In the
distance you hear
a steel guitar, and
what sounds
like a fight song.

You look for clues
and chess pieces
in your purse.
Trying to unriddle
the endnote.

You wind up at a
street carnival,
in a form fitting
black dress, high
heels and garters.

You look up and find
unsent letters in the sky.
Folding the stars into
tokens, you stupidly
hope for another chance
to win that bear.

-Tosha Michelle

Besot with Fire.


I don’t want a dehydrated love
that lives somewhere between
purgatory and just good enough.

I’d rather bust my knee on the sidewalk,
bruise my arm and cheek on the wall,
crash my bike on a rocky path, crack my
wrist for a love full of oxygen caught fire.

Turning blue to red. Scarlett Crimson.
I don’t want to be rescued from the flames.
I want to be wrapped in them

Let’s lose the word complacent,
and replace it with passion.

Trust that a love full of imperfections
is more interesting than one
full of perfect nothingness.

Let’s get pleasantly disoriented
on a bed of salacious.

Where everything we need
is a finger trail away.

Let’s follow the glint of rosebuds
and not be afraid to step on the

Let’s create a love of different rooms
we can waltz into.

Now a lover.
Now a friend.
Now a sexy stranger.

Nothing predictable, no room
for maybes.

I want a love full of poetry,
but nothing conventional

I want crude statements.
Expletives, obscenity.
Possessive pronouns.
Imperative verbs.

A lexicon of love and sex.
A love that’s not offended by
the Fword -foreplay
and likes to fucking fuck.

No! I don’t want a dehydrated love
I want a love that is fully

I don’t mind drudgery but lace it
with swoon, with heat.

I believe in the power of endurance and faith,
but let’s pepper it with decadence and sin.

I don’t want us to look back
and realize how sane we were
for each other.

I want to reflect back on
a crazy love that took us and
the moon down.

One that resides somewhere
between soulful conversation and
a wet dream.

-Tosha Michelle


You Walked Away


You walked away. I remember the first time you walked toward me. We sat at what would become our table. You with your beer. Me, with my sweet tea. Two people sharing stories. Connected by our fondness
of music and difficult things

Afterwards, you walked me home. Maybe if I hadn’t invited you in. Maybe if you hadn’t leaned in and kissed me, we might have just stayed friends, but I had to kiss you back. That’s when things really began the undressing, tongue to flesh, a bite to the lobe, hands everywhere. A hasty love, a good idea at the time

That was before promises were broken, before you became a liar. Before I knew I’d never be able to quell
your wanderlust spirit. Before I understood you only find peace in leaving things behind

God, we were stupid. We should have just stayed friends. We sat at our table, you held both my hands at arms length and told me some bullshit how I’m better off with someone else, someone who knows how to stay, how to build. Someone who knows my nurturing is not something to just put up with.

I watched as you got up from our table one last time,
You started to turn toward me but got distracted by
the street noise and the call of distant continents.
You walked away.
I remember the first time you walked toward me.

-Tosha Michelle


The Sisterhood of the World Bloggers Award


My thanks to the lovely and talented Geetha B for this nomination. Please check out her exquisite poetry at:

The Rules

Say “Thank You” to the person who nominated you & link their blog to your post.
Answer the 10 questions given to you.
Pass the award on to 7 other bloggers and let them know they have been nominated.
Include the Award Badge in your post.

The Answers. (drum roll, please)

What made you want to start your blog?
– My friend Niles held a gun to my head and made me. No, really, he was always going on about how wonderful WordPress was. I finally decided to see what all the Niles buzz was about. I have to say, I am extremely grateful that he directed me here. The blogging community is so supportive. This is my favorite place to be on-line. People are so kind. It’s such a drama free environment

2. What have you wanted to do on your blog but haven’t yet? Why not?
– win a Nobel Peace Prize:) Honestly, I can’t think of anything. Perhaps, posting nude photos. I kid!!!!

3. Name one item on your bucket list, or more if you like?
– I would love to meet Jon Stewart. I’m a tad obsessed with him and James Purefoy.  It’s totally innocent. I just want Jon to feed me grapes while Purefoy (with his lovely British accent) recites Shakespeare.

I would also like to get my MFA in creative writing.  I already have one Masters degree, what’s one more? Oh, only a few thousands of dollars more in student loan debt. Meh.

4. What is your biggest fear
-the loss of my children. I never want to outlive them.

5. What is your best moment in life?
– the birth of my two daughters.

6. With New Years fast approaching, do you make resolutions? If so, name one. If not, why don’t you like to make them?
– I don’t. I think you should resolve to be better everyday

7. If you could host a challenge on your blog, what kind would it be?
– one to see who could pay off my student loans the fastest. 😉

8. What was the name of your first pet? What do you remember the most about them?
– it was a cat named Squirrel. In hindsight, kind of a silly name for a feline. I remember as a five year old, I thought it would be neat to see if he could swing. He couldn’t, but he was a superb clawer.

9. Did you ever go to a high school reunion? Was it fun or not?
– I went to my tenth. It was fun. I was such a nerd in high school. People were shocked by how much I had changed. Note, I’m still a nerd, I just dress better.

10. Do you have a pet peeve?
-so many but the main one- rude people. Manners matters. Kindness matters. Validation matters. It take so little to say thank you, you’re welcome, please, etc.

Now for the hard part.
The nominees
There are so many amazing women here. It’s hard to pick only a few. I love you all!

1. Stephanie from
She’s truly an inspiration.
2. Meg from an absolute delight.
3. Sarah from She writes beautifully
4. L. T. Garvin from Author and word goddess
5. Sanghamitra from Poet and just a lovely human being.
6. Rachel from Her writing is so raw and real.
7. Cooper Cranes One of my favorite poets on WordPress.

Questions for Nominees

What made you want to start your blog?
2. What have you wanted to do on your blog but haven’t yet? Why not?
3. Name one item on your bucket list, or more if you like?
4. What is your biggest fear?
5. What is your best moment in life?
6. With New Years fast approaching, do you make resolutions? If so, name one. If not, why don’t you like to make them?
7. If you could host a challenge on your blog, what kind would it be?
8. What was the name of your first pet? What do you remember the most about them?
9. Did you ever go to a high school reunion? Was it fun or not?
10. Do you have a pet peeve?




She ‘s Beatrice and Delilah.
an illusion, a crime

She’s a skyscape that slips
from blue, to grey, to red.

She’s a spider web over
a bank vault.

She’s the pull swirling
in his chest.

She’s a whisper of longing
stuck in his ear.

She’s a wilder life, the sweet
seed, his heart’s core.

She’s a sigh, ragged and

She’s a crushing need
a helix of yearning.

She’s chemistry and anatomy.

She’s the witching hour’s
pleasures of bourbon and sin.

She’s soaked in summer,
spun in contradictions.

She’s a flame grabbing what
it wants, a tumultuous embrace.

She’s a thousand lips bruising
his skin.

She’s a back arching, guttural

She’s rhythm and release.

She’s as intrusive as a power

She’s as frustrating as a

She’s as elusive as spindrift

She’s a woman set in his type,
born in ink, language spilling out.

She’s what he conjugates.
The artistry of his craft

-Tosha Michelle


Different Types of Love.


A note from the poet This one it a bit on the silly side.

Different Types of Love

I love you, but I’m not
in love with you.
I love you like a brother.
I love you,
but your friends have to go.
I love you,
but its complicated.
I love how you are
a dare, a rage.
I love you for your
spirit and how it makes
me think of the ways of
the flesh.
I love how I’m a shrine of
longing for you.
I love the showmanship of
your voice and how my
skin comes alive from
the pitch.
I love how your orbit is
constantly circling me,
but you are never there.
I love how I drown in the
upwelling of your coldness,
just happy to be touched
by your water.
I love your family.
They’re so much saner than mine.
I love your hair and how
I want to sink my teeth
into your neck.
I love how if I tasted you,
my heart would turn blue.
I love you for your
opulent sadness.
I love you, but I don’t
know you.
I love how you write
I want to f””” your poems
I love how you don’t
see me.
I love you more
I love you in spite of
the restraining order.
I love you for hitting me.
I love you more than I ever
loved anyone..
well, except for John and David.
Oh and Kyle.
I love how you get
my sense of humor.
I love your madness.
It’s so competitive.
I love when you go Fifty Shades
of Christian Grey on me.
I love your emotional surcharge.
I love the curve of your hips,
the thrust of your sway.
I love you for your
smarmy imagination.
I love the crack
running through you.
The one I’ll never be able
to repair.
I love how you know all
the words to every Morrissey
I love the void you’ve created
of yourself.
I love how you peel away my
sanity, and suck on my wounds
I love how bright and alive the
world taste when I am
beside you.
I love you, but I hate you.
I love the swelling edge
of your core, the unthreading
of the pulse in my center.
I love how your darkness
casts shadows in my soul.
I love how all things nerdy
and bombastic ring in you.
Often shrill, but always shrewd.
I love you but you’re fictional.
I love you, but I could really
love you, if you loved me

I love you..but…

-Tosha Michelle