Hear My Prayer


 

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Sense

I’ve already forgotten the feel of you; The beat of your heart beneath my cheek,  The vibration of your throat when you start to speak. What was it you smelled like when you were here? Tobacco, crisp leaves and bergamot… How is it possible I’ve already forgot? The taste of you has slipped my mind; Your lips so sweet with minty breath, Your showered skin always fresh. The sounds of you are long gone now; Your voice a steady baritone, The echoes of your pleasured moan. The sight of you is something else; Captured in photos and insta posts These are the relics I cherish the most.   By: T.J. Ruberto 2021
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Untitled Musings

Sometimes when I write I close my eyes and just type. Whatever words, rhythms and rhymes come into my head I just write down. This seems to be happening more and more often over the past few days.  Today, during some down time I sat down with my coffee and computer with the intention to write something though I was unsure what exactly. I took one sip of my much needed (and well-deserved I might add) coffee before setting it down to begin writing. Before long, my musings transformed into what you see below and a cup full of cold, not so delicious, coffee.  Although this is still a work in progress I thought I would share it here. Please feel free to comment and share some feedback.  For now, I think I will try again with the coffee. Perhaps this time I will drink it while it's warm.  UNTITLED Go ahead, walk away from us, take it all in stride. Don’t look back I’m just your girl, can’t say I never tried. You say the grass is greener on the far sid...
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You. Me. Your World.

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