words by dominic riccitello

i listen to the sound of his voice
it echoes in motions, in hilltops, in voids
and i wonder where pages of his memoir would leave us
i used to feel his arms beneath us
caressing the tones of my core
we hurt each other to take each other
in fields of bodies we twirl
a consciousness in which we weren’t
he touched, yet i felt
the words were at play
metaphors were stuck in daze
mist of our shadows
i leave you armless, without a beat
he trembles and i defeat the sorrow
in which he instilled
dancing in mountains, in greenery
he said two words
i said none
you say love
but in occasion 
nothing says more