Take Two


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.


A Poem for Niles


This post was written for a dear friend.  Happy Birthday, Niles. You are the calm to my storm. The voice of reason to my insanity. The jitter to my bug. The Niles to my girly Frasier

Without further ado, I give you my ode to you.

There’s once was a guy from Macon
who like to shake his bacon
his hips, yours for the taking


but seriously….

Still Waters

While other men measure success by titles and cash
He dreams of making text dance over the crevices
of uncharted pages, imaginary characters alive in his mind
He longs to breathe life into figures he has never met.
to fire his own artistic semantic round.
to pen The Great American Novel,
with sophisticated soulful prose that linger

While other men play golf and women
He’s happier with his nose in a book
Getting lost in CS Lewis and Hemingway
Sliding between his world and theirs
walking chapters to be read. Again and again
He lives in the land of mystical lions,
not fearing the tolling of the bell,
finding his lifeline in fanciful excursions

While other men long to dominant and control
He strives to be gentlemanly and bold
A silent nod to a picture page
Old world charm, lost in a photograph
Shaking the dust off his top hat
He welcomes chivalry anew.

While other men court surface friendships,
His quiet still waters run deep
As deep as the tea he seeps
He puts his shield away
Cast the armor aside
Content to share the secrets he holds inside
He caters only to a select few
Kind beyond fault to those he holds true

While other men drown in the noise of a fast paced life
He’s busy taking comfort in starlit skies
Content to linger by the stream with Whitman and Thoreau
Green fields blooming. His soul dances in the yellow light
He smiles at the passing herd, wondering if the sheep
will ever open their eyes and see?

While other men are slaves to convention
He marvels that his soul is as free as a feather
No guise needed, a peaceful mind is on his side
He travels on, marching to his own tune
with steadfast authentic steps and exquisite simplicity

-Tosha Michelle

Alternate ending

He travels on, marching to his own tune
with steadfast authentic steps
and visions of Norah Jones
alive in his bed (Note from poet, I couldn’t resist)


Gin Soaked Memories


Music glides and slides,
weaving its way through the room
Smoke darts to and fro,
twisting and turning between the tables

A solitary figure sits at the bar
Rolling his tumbler
He stares into the bottom of his glass,
looking for salvation

He throws his head back
and down the drink in one shot.
Liquid fire to warm his November soul
a taste mixed with memories

In his whiskey colored eyes,
the light of her impression,
a girl he loved once
His pixie, a fair, faint slip of a woman

Every moment recorded and
filed away in meticulous order
taken out and revisited in times
of gin, regret, and recollections

He recalls the days of Aphrodite and Dionysus,
the nights before
Hades and Tartarus-
a life lived freely once, in a time long ago

The days of morning glory,
fireside dinning, Parisian wine
Swaying to Charlie Parker on repeat.
Two souls lifted on the breeze of contentment

The nights of melting and meshing,
into silk sheets-teasing hands, guttural moans
Hard on soft. Passion so smoldering
even the windows cried out in a steamy release

The days of sultry tempting lips
that tasted of strawberries and unmitigated sin
a soft neck made for nibbles and kisses
an intoxicating fresh clean scent
The hint of vanilla and warm sugar on her skin

The nights of stolen moments,
faded hope, broken hearts
shuttered glances, hushed goodbyes
a love that fell out of time

As the bartender pours the man another drink,
the past blends into the now
Playing out like a moving picture book

He sees her behind the bar
Reflected in the neon,
dancing with shadows,
singing her reminiscence tune

She beckons, inviting him to come along
His foot taps along to her song.
Her rhythm fades.

Where did she run off to?

He reaches for his wallet and pays his tab
stumbling forward out the door

In his mind’s eye,
he glimpses her,
dashing ahead of him.
Her dress billowing in the wind

He rushes onward,
trying to catch her.
Chasing the sound of her laughter
His arms reach out to embrace her

Hands are left empty.
She’s only a ghost hidden among the leaves
Fragile and wild, shifting like the finest lace
disappearing into nothing, shattering the illusion

The man finds only lights flashing him blind
the blare of horns, people, and endless chatter

Briefly, he and the night stand still,
aching with a thousand remembrances
Mournfully, he shakes his head,
sighs, and wanders off into the night

-Tosha Michelle

Dominant Me.


Why are women drawn to “dominant males”?  The Bloodhound Gang summed it up nicely “You and me baby ain’t nothin’ but mammals. So let’s do it like they do on the Discovery Channel.” It’s a biological tale as old as the dawn of time.  It comes down to survival and mating. In the animal kingdom, alpha males have the sperm that make all the female hippos and lions come to the yard.

According to Parental Investment Theory, “reproduction is much more costly for females than it is for males. While women invest nine months in a pregnancy, a man’s initial contribution to parenthood boils down to just a few minutes.” Thus, women need to be particularly selective when it comes to choosing a mate. Aside from a man’s resources, his genetic gifts are decisive in the selection process. One analysis from UCLA found that when women are ovulating, they are drawn to men with masculine builds, symmetrical facial features, and dominant behavior. The assumption being, if he can command in life, he and his sperm can command in the bedroom.

Biology aside, most women aren’t into loudmouth, know it all, controlling, misogynistic a-holes. We don’t need a micro-manger, a baby sitter, or a condescending prick. Being a dominant male does not have to equate with being a miscreant.   Verbal, physical, and sexual abuse is never okay, despite what the Fifty Shades of Grey Trilogy would have you believe. There’s a vast different between being a gentleman in the street and a rock star beast in the bedroom and being a bastard on the street and a predatory creep in the bedroom.  Rough sex is hot. Brutality is not.

Lastly, there’s something to be said for the rare breed of men who are dominant as well as chivalrous.  Nothing is more appealing than a man who knows how to be direct, believes in himself, and isn’t scared to take charge, especially if he wields those traits with kindness and respect. It’s an unbeatable combination. You hear that “good guys”? We women do want a nice guy, but we want to know you can throw down in the bedroom and the battleground.

Our Lost Spring.


Do you recall our lost spring?
The time of never ending evenings
Long walks through the park
Hands that never parted
Love found amidst dandelion promises
and sweet grass memories

Do you recall our lost spring?
The time of moonshine and fireflies.
Our melody so loud, it drowned out the crowd.
No pretense. Only divine truths.
We didn’t need anyone’s approval.
All we saw was the potential in each other

Do you recall our lost spring?
The time of sweet wine and soul drenching passion,
endless kisses that melted into the night dew,
glistening on a bed we never wanted to leave,
where all I could taste was forever on your skin.
and we pulsated in time, with our own celestial rhythm.

Do you recall our lost spring?
I do. Memories sweep in when the days become short,
and Jack Frost’s icy breath shivers down my neck.
My soul frostbitten. My heart cold.
I close my eves for a brief moment
I can smell your fresh untainted scent.
I’m transport back to our warm sultry lost spring,
where hope dances in on zephyrs
Love beams off clouds of cotton
Spring becomes nectar in my veins,
and withe a faint smile. I savor what could have been.

-Tosha Michelle

Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships.

I really hate self promotion. My friend Andy is a pro at it. I’m borrowing a page from him. Please check out my latest book

Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships.

Hey, I didn’t say the page I borrowed wasn’t obnoxious. The Bold and Annoying.

But I digress ( don’t I always?)

Self Help to Self Harm: The Dubious Guide to Life, Love, and Relationships. (can’t stop, won’t stop)

is a humorous, tongue-in-cheek look at life, love, and relationships, tempered by moments of serious introspection. This book won’t get you laid, help you lose ten pounds, cure your addictions, or draw you closer to God or Starbucks (whatever you worship).

Way to sell it, right? Hopefully, it will make you chuckle and cause you to rethink your One Direction hate.

You can purchase the book here:


If you like it,  I’d really appreciate if you would consider leaving a review on Amazon, GoodReads, and Barnes&Noble. If you don’t like it..well…keep that sh** to yourself. Kidding.

Ten Things Women Wished Men Knew. (from the Dear Men files)

I tend to be either deeply philosophical or deeply silly. I’ll let you decide where my mood falls tonight.

Dear Men,

I know you live for my letters. The tips that just keep on giving. In that vein, I present my latest top ten list. Take notes.

1. We women like to be taken but not in a way that requires our fathers to bring out their particular set of skills. You know the ones they have acquired over their long career. No, we want be taken up against the wall, on the kitchen counter, on your desk, etc. We love to feel wanted and desirable.

2. Pet names can be very sweet. However, don’t make them too cutesy. There’s nothing sexy about being called Kissy Kibbles, Schnookums or Licky Sticky Poo.

3. It is never appropriate to call us a bit** or by your ex-girlfriend’s name.

4.You don’t fake foreplay. We won’t fake an orgasm.

5. Ladies first. See number 4.

6. There’s something extremely sexy about a man who can recite Shakespeare while listening to Bach as he fixes a leaky pipe.

7. Be romantic. Note, sometimes being romantic simply means doing the laundry.

8. Listen to us, dam*it

9. You’re adorable when you are shaving, driving, being kind to your mother, holding a baby. etc.

10. Love us. Respect us. Protect us. Do us.


Dear Men (this one’s for you)

Dear Men,

It’s been awhile since I wrote. In my last letter, I praised you, criticized you, and gave you a few pointers. This note will be no different. See the list that follows.

Tips and dips. You’re welcome.

1.   Love us for our hearts and minds, and we’ll rock you with our bodies.
2.   Tears are not a sign of weakness. It’s OK to be sensitive (unless you’re crying because you have nothing to wear, or you missed a real housewives episode)
3.   There are two places tighty whities belong, on babies, or in the trash.
4.   The vacuum cleaner and mop will not bite you.  Go ahead, try them on for size. I dare you.
5.   Sometimes all we need to hear is “No, honey, let me do it.”
6.   Cologne is sexy, but no need to bathe in it.
7.   A kiss on the hand at the right time can be quite lovely, at the wrong time, equally as creepy.
8.   By all means be the man in the relationship when it comes to killing bugs, or opening jars. We don’t mind.
9.   However, never tell us what to do. EVER!
10.  We want to be your muses but not in a sleazy photographer kind of way. We long to bring out your inner Shakespeare, not Larry Flynt
11.  Withhold nothing. We need to know where all the carbon go, and why prime numbers remain a mystery. I’m looking at you, Riemann hypothesis.  Why is it all so weird? Oh and everyone you have ever dated, and what you had for lunch, and how your day was, and what your brother said on the phone. Etc.
12.  Your mother was right, manners matter. Prove to us chivalry is not dead.
13.  Please don’t tell us to calm down. You calm down!
14.  I mentioned this last time but felt the need to reiterate, no, we do not want to see a picture of the little engine that could.
15.    Just because your friends might find us appealing, doesn’t mean we want to to be with them. (unless your friends are Timothy Olyphant or Jon Stewart)
16.  Please talk about your feelings. We want to know what’s going on in those heads of yours. However, we don’t have to have a come to Jesus meeting  or an Oprah moment.
17.  Douchebaggerty is never a winning look. Wear compassion and humanity instead.
18.  There’s nothing hotter than a man with tools, unless, it’s a man with a book.
19.  We like wearing your old college sweatshirt or sleeping in your t-shirt. Prepare to share. It makes us feel close to you.
20.  All we need is affection, attention, love, chocolate  and a guy with a big…………………………………………………………….


Until, next time gents,



PS. This guy is sexy.


As an aside, I’m obsessed with this song. Yes, I am channeling my inner 16 year old. No judgement, please.

Taylor Swift “Wildest Dreams” lyrics

He said let’s get out of this town
Drive out of the city
Away from the crowds
I thought heaven can’t help me now
Nothing lasts forever
But this is gonna take me down
He’s so tall, and handsome as hell
He’s so bad but he does it so well
I can see the end as it begins my one condition is

Say you’ll remember me
Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sun set babe
Red lips and rosy cheeks
Say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams
Wildest dreams

I say no one has to know what we do
His hands are in my hair, his clothes are in my room
And his voice is a familiar sound, nothing lasts forever
But this is getting good now
He’s so tall, and handsome as hell
He’s so bad but he does it so well
And when we’ve had our very last kiss
But my last request is

Say you’ll remember me
Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sun set babe
Red lips and rosy cheeks
Say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams
Wildest dreams

You see me in hindsight
Tangled up with you all night
Burn it down
Some day when you leave me
I bet these memories hunt you around
You see me in hindsight
Tangled up with you all night
Burn it down
Some day when you leave me
I bet these memories follow you around

Say you’ll remember me
Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sun set babe
Red lips and rosy cheeks
Say you’ll see me again even if it’s just pretend

Say you’ll remember me
Standing in a nice dress, staring at the sun set babe
Red lips and rosy cheeks
Say you’ll see me again even if it’s just in your wildest dreams
Wildest dreams
Even if it’s just in your wildest dreams
In your wildest dreams

10 Compliments We Women Never Tire of Hearing


10 Compliments We Women Never Tire of Hearing

1.   I love your Jimmy Choo shoes.

(Payless actually, but thanks.)

2.   You’ve lost weight.

(My winter clothes work wonders.)

3.   You’re a culinary master.

(I call my technique take out.)

4.   You’re a natural beauty.

(Thanks. It took me an hour to perfect this look.)

5.   Are you a dancer?

(My best move is tripping up the stairs.)

6.   I could listen to you talk for hours.

(Good, because I have a litany of items to discuss.)

7.   You’re so witty.

(Ugh, the pressure!)

8.   You look so Italian?

(Grazie mille!)

9.   Your mind is a thing of beauty.

(It is, isn’t it?)

10.               You were right.

(Told you so)