Words by Dominic Riccitello | Writer & Modern Poet

under darkened rainfall
i forget the hour
something in the static
calls me by a name again

glass hums against my skin
the air, electric
a pulse between what is
and what could never

the lights smear into motion
each reflection half-alive
as if the city remembers
what i keep trying to lose

you stand somewhere
between signal and echo
half-formed in the hum
of a world still buffering

i keep walking
past the wet blur of neon veins
as if a street would answer you
as if it ever could

words by dominic riccitello