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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House

I’m not sure what I remember anymore What is a memory? What is a memory of a memory?   I do remember the day you picked me up The day you told me  The mountain in front of us was called  Grasshopper Hill, because Grasshoppers have to pack a lunch to get up it   I remember your white shirt Sweat stained  Fat flopping over your grease marked jeans I remember sitting beside you  Gear shift between my knees   I wanted to play barbies with Your daughter The one I went to school with  But she wanted to play house Said we had to take our clothes Off  Get into bed Because that’s what mommies and daddies do   I remember being nervous, feeling Something wasn’t right  Barbies on the floor  Untouched  Naked  As most barbies end up  Sooner or later   But then I remember remembering There you were Watching us Telling me it was ok That you and she played house together All the time   Then I don’t remember  What happened next  My memory goes from vivid technicolour  To a blizzard of static  I don’t re
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Waiting

I sit here waiting for inspiration to come, Like parched earth waiting for rain,  Flowers waiting for sun. I wait for the voice to fill the void, To shout above the silence Or filter out the noise. I wait for those juices to start to flow, For something I can grasp,  For the seeds that I can grow. Creativity isn’t for the meek of mind,  She’s a gift, a spell, a favour, She’s something you can’t find.  She’s mystical and magical, a lady of the night,  She comes to you when she’s ready,  When she feels the moment’s right.  Relinquish your control, let go and let her play, You can’t rush that perfect moment, When she shows you what to say.  I sit here waiting for inspiration again,  Like snow caps for the sun,  And deserts for the rain.  By: T.J. Ruberto 2021
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