words by dominic riccitello

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  • Jul 11, 2015

    I fear falling in love and understanding why.

    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 10, 2015

    His whisper was the softest sound I ever knew, which seemed to bring the loudest heartbeat.

    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 9, 2015

    I see more light than dark, but when I encounter dark I seem to get lost in it.

    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 8, 2015

    we slept beside
    held our bodies tight
    warmed the air
    here, there
    everywhere
    with fingers clenched
    and a broken sweat
    we swore, killed
    drenched our pores
    beside a slithering door

    together and never
    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 7, 2015

    We must make tough decisions to see if it’s worth it in the end.

    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 5, 2015

    It was perfect, but perfection is terrifying.

    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 4, 2015

    He was quite lovely and I was quite lonely, so I mixed letters and assumed it would work.

    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 4, 2015

    i have not a poem
    a word
    or thoughts

    we held a rail
    talked of openness
    miles upon queries
    moments we subconsciously treasure

    our faces held walls
    legs to fall
    we twirled for days
    lusted and twisted
    and killed in ways
    we couldn’t quite understand

    the grigio and noir
    glass which broke
    i loved the walls and climb
    but the fall had depth
    and swung tangled feet

    he was impetuous
    with a touch of perfect
    we were an interstate
    a perpendicular intersection
    where we met for a moment
    and continued on endlessly

    tangled
    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 4, 2015

    tips of your fingers
    the nimble
    hand upon your chest
    heart below my hand

    i loved
    his handles, the hallway
    conversation
    how we held
    without thoughts
    lusted our lobes
    drove upon closed roads

    we melted our love
    swam for all we could
    searched a sea of only
    the lone of our words
    hurt which would swoon

    we worked in rays
    lied in daze
    where nothing meant everything
    and everything meant nothing

    from first
    words by dominic riccitello
  • Jul 4, 2015

    Some days I wonder if I stopped writing about him, if I’d love him a little less.

    words by dominic riccitello
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