words by dominic riccitello

his pulse against my ribs
the wind sways in the background
breeze drifts
things end
anger escalates
he takes hands like he takes hearts
locking them in the dark
holding shadows to a game
where he knows the rules
but fails to say
the hypocrisy, the darkness
inconsistency sold our hardship
to a failure of love
lack of us
you can hold someone’s hand
but can you truly
hold their heart?