words by dominic riccitello

could taste you
the mist, the fog
your scents too strong

here i hang, hoping you’ll see
but a phillips is just a tool waiting to screw
i admit, i looked, i walked and your car was never near
but the scent began to pass as you did last

a sucker for hook, line and sinker
i play with eventually, possibilities
while dabbling in the past and waiting on the future

said how i knew, how i asked
the way you did on september eleventh
and while i’ve had it, i still want it
truth was always subconscious
the hope, the gone, knowing of it all

i live in the possibility
kill and lust with revenge as i think of you
appreciate the blue, sadness that nuzzles you
the hue of the sky that changes its mood

my life isn’t of despair and it won’t always be your hair
but what’s sad is the fact that you might never understand
what life gives and the tune that you exude might always be blue