You look back to see how far you’ve come. Not obsess over past failure.
-
screaming your name
i tango your hands
falling in love in a dark shed
i touch your emotions
feeling your bliss
the rough edges of a handsome man
i slip with your grasp
graveling at your knees
we lie in grass
atop quicksand
you kiss my neck
i transcend
we wade in emotions
but hurt instead
falling into grooves
knives and candles
we lit our bodies
but ran from them -
Wrote you a poem, but you wouldn’t like it because you die at the end.
-
slow dancing
twirling under
a blissful moonlight
slip of your tongue
we spoke like crazy
in a field of daisies
running my grasp
fucking your hands
into oblivion
we go
black touch
emotionless void
i sip champagne
in congratulation
for all those things
we never said -
Should’ve, could’ve, would’ve, but you didn’t. So you move on.
-
The problem wasn’t that I loved you. It was that you loved me and then I loved you. Then one day you stopped while I still did.
-
i slide to a tune
waves of you
i wade through pain
in an ocean of fear
wondering where you go
when i stand here
i live for you
hurt of you
sadness consumes
my being
i let it feel
it seems lifting
i sway in a circle
transcending
hurling
provoking
my touch for you
the softness
i let it consume
like the sadness i used
to feel of you
it feels like blue
when we were purple
and waves soothed
when you
were you -
riding black
thoughts of you
july third
a haunting muse
we tango in fire
wandering far from here
i play in freedom
death of a love
we form from morgues
tranquility
endless words
nudity
i sleep from within
tears from you
the darkness i used to consume
i wade in heaven
bathe in hell
paint you black
so no one can see you
but the one who painted
you -
i stand beside the shadows
darkness of your eve
the hands of your night
how you make me shake and heave
i dance to my left
throw to my right
how the sun could make you
my moon tonight
we frolic through the grass
i write your hues
your strong hands
how your love made me prune
fading within
the death of your might
my hatred sings blues
the tears feel like fuel
we flip without a switch
wilt without bore
you spin me like tires
i never felt crazy beforerough hands
words by dominic riccitello -
Instead of understanding my problems, he used them against me and that’s when I knew we weren’t quite right.
