The intention isn’t to write sad poetry. It’s about experiencing something so beautiful that you’re capable of twisting words into perfect grooves.
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their heart was a vulture
scouring the surface
holding a position of love and devotion
but they got what they gave and gave what they took
the revenge that seeks will only namea professional lonely with a heart of honey
embracing every part and through the dark
it takes the hunger, rapture and torture
within, it knows, it basks and grows
but slows with a nauseous awakea somber world it lives
the chills, the night and always at fright
it fractures with affection, only knows rejection
the karma, the fate
for all those hearts they used to breakthe sum of a person’s actions in this and previous states of existence
words by dominic riccitello -
I am translucent, not transparent.
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You were a little bit of everything: mad, pensive, creative, handsome, delusional, electric, sad and just a person I treasured spending time with.
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was cold as december
yet hot like the underworld
felt the world beneath me
saw trees bend with intensitya force that brought cracks
with lights upon black
grasping the lantern
searching for afterthe flowers tug, break
withhold love
like the words you write ofthe fear and might
i was your light, as you were my power
the strength that kept
before all that was swept
and the luminescence that faded
with our magnetic heaven -
Fall in love with who they are instead of who they aren’t.
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It was intricate.
We were intricate. -
He had the paint and picture, yet didn’t understand the correlation between the two.
