i drown
between the cracks of our love
dying in truth to extend
through a moment stuck in time
and i find your eyes
caressing my spine
with words upon your lips
texture of our bodies
against each other
and we twirl to transcend
to places of non-existence
like meadows in our eve
sorrow in our spring
and break bones
to touch the pain
i once held in hands
a grip so soft
but a dance so triggering
two against one
hands against thumbs
gripping a body
feeling you heavenly
hugging you tightly
but without letting go
a rapid with force
brings torture
like hands used to
and it sounds of passion
but a mask delivers
as it’s supposed to
secrets hold value
like our pasts

horror in our past

words by dominic riccitello

i fall asleep
with you by my door
tossing and turning
feigning for more
than our dreams to be
nostalgic by time
darkened meanings
i close my eyes
to see you in night
hovering beside
and i talk to feel
with emotion than touch
vivid motions break by core
and we’re standing in beds
expecting more
than what we’re given in time 
and i ask you to speak
to converse over this
we’re swaying in time
before oceans could tide
rapids would pull
and sense makes nothing
until it does to you
which is why i explain
in rhyme for you
the reasons this could
but time made it couldn’t
our past remembers
life sweeter than
it was


twisting you beneath
my time in night
i shake you
to please you
we sway
from rhyme to rhyme
breaking rules
bending you right
and i feel
to touch you internally
breaking on blue tides
in my mind to caress you
yet we’re wallowing in disrespect
fueling toxic for this to make sense
i rake your leaves to leave you loveless
you tango through our vicinity
leaving us both heartless
and i die in you
to feel nostalgia for a few
seconds in remembrance
times in moments
our emotions before foreign

to touch internally

words by dominic riccitello

two in the morning
thoughts of glass
broken in thought
by you in my head
of past romance
and wobbling knees
terror in defeat
of you beneath my sheets
envisioning us
in depth
between cracks of pages
i never made sense
of how we left
open pages on shelves
and love in garbage cans

synonyms: trash, rubbish, refuse, waste, detritus, litter, junk, scrap

words by dominic riccitello

i fell in love
with the idea of us
twisting in words
breaking backs
in tune of twenty-two
and we age in
fine time and blurred lines
squeezing lemons
for men out of might
and we skip on fine lines
in white noise
to find ourselves in tune
with scribbles on blank pages
journals from our childhood
and i write to quake
tremble between words
in our truth
and i said i loved
but i lust ideas
two souls on a blank page
reminiscing over dinner
with romantic qualities
within each other
yet words scribe our moments
emotions hold our motions
hands grip like ideas grasp
our lips and create thunder
i feel i love on different pages
than the books they read
we fine tune moments for
our own pleasing
i fall in love with the idea
of two at a dinner table
while the tables spinning
and chairs turn 
from forward to reverse
our moments twine under
what motions we share
and i find at twenty seven
we quake for hope
because hope is what we hold
and our moments are either
short or long
and sometimes moments
are not enough at all
yet it’s what we take
them for