words by dominic riccitello

i slip on his grasp
from the tip of his tongue
with words he never meant
conversations which seemed endless
went from weights to why
slow dances under the starlight
he dimmed my mind
fed me a dark high 
we talked of things i liked
respect of things he loved
i drank his belvedere
he sipped my grigio
as he seized my body
with hands you couldn’t feel
we played in brains to bodies
yet swayed in the hometown of our lovely
waiting for things to slow
for feelings to burn
the passion to linger
from fingers to soul to ways
i could never quite name