Concrete Poetry - Knitting Saved My Life


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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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You. Me. Your World.

Everyone struggles sometimes and I am a firm believer is supporting one another through thick and thin, over smooth trails and bumpy roads. Over the last week or so I have been struggling. People... actually... friends, and yes, family too, have chosen to avert their eyes more often than not. People I have known for years, people I have offered help and support to, people I have been there for countless times, have averted their eyes. Perhaps they are being polite by not being intrusive, but that's certainly not how things come across. Sometimes all anyone needs is a little love, a little attention, and someone to put their arms around you and tell you they are there and that they empathize with your struggles. More often than not lately, it seems some people really can't see past the end of their own nose and your struggles are literally water rushing under the bridge on which they stand. I know. A little negative. A little depressing. I promise, I will come back with som...
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From that other blog....

*** A short time ago, I started this other blog called The Upside of Down. I intended on writing about all the things in my life that have and will go wrong. After some consideration I have decided I'd much rather stick to one blog cause, let's be honest, I don't really have time for two. This blog, T.J. White Writes, allows me the freedom of writing what I wish. Although I am unsure as to the audience this will draw, I am sure that it will provide the outlet I need, regardless of readership. This is an exert from my previous blog. I will not be elaborating on this post.  *** I was born a Murphy. I am certain this imposed an automatic curse upon my very soul, despite the fact that I did not remain a Murphy for very long. My paternal donor hit the long and winding road, or should I say the bright blue skies, for his idea of greener pastures and better beer back in England when I was just two years old. It wasn't long before the Murphy name went with him. ...
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