words by dominic riccitello

I lie in width and wallow in length. We can die a thousand times and I’d still remember your face. Your name burns with the moon as I transcend. It’ll be a hundred million years and I know we will meet again. You make moments out of nothing, scents out of what used to be. Words seem to ricochet off what could have been. A cliche in the wind, a walk down the street we had left each other in. You make moments out of touching and longing out of more than something.