words by dominic riccitello

the use of his skin
i remember against the sheets in night
brushing upon our shins
i recall a coldness
broken by what we were
but what we were without
two beings dancing in a subway station
longing for virtue instead of tuesday
where we ate in dim light fragility
in a restaurant neither of us could remember
and they played a song
but toxic rhymes climactic 
which defines our moment here within
a lie we told ourselves
placing books on broken shelves
as if they’re fine with where they went
like relationships and flickers
burning in sensation 
for a moment or for a night

holding by ropes you strung
listening to a song i sung
in my head on the day we met
like clocks and kitchens
of mornings we spent
in each others grip
before coffee beans on tuesdays
drinks by oceans we got used to
as bruises on my lips
from kissing blood on your back
where knives spent in tact
to tarnish what you adored
feat in defeat and feet on the street
where i walk past memories
like your eyes in mine
craze in fine lines
where you sit in the grass
with wine and cheese
to a movie you’ve seen a dozen times
yet you don’t watch
you sit in the moment and reflect on
moments you’ll never feel again
like heat in emotion
twirled motions
hearts beating
feelings detonating