Dominic Riccitello
Aug 8, 2014

a conversation

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it wasn’t the last page, our words or even the saddest day the way you said stranger, my mixed up feelings of yesterday i wake with the day and fight to obtain what once was sleep with night hoping one day i might survive i realize time, eyes and might vs. fright, cross notions and mix like emotions he was never a poet or had a way with words, but surely became the poem even if hope seemed lost, it was never gone you could drop every bomb, but somehow the calm will always rise the nights will always find — even the wind that was you, the breeze will always know from dark to blue i wade with the ocean and float with knees toward hopefully you find, hopefully you lift from the grind and sleep with ease i know bee’s love their honey like music needs its tune but the bruise i push, the hurt — it feels like you i know gone, the feeling of a brush, the tingle of lust we’re still here, floating near in a parallel world where lives are swapped how you hop on one and feel the stun of what once was we run, lift and dance with truth that burns like fuel our hue, back to the aura that lingered at eleven your wish was my command and even our darkest was grand my pen brightens with you, i write because of you “even though our hands only grasped and never held, i love you from here to the moon, to pluto and back” as i kiss your hand and hope one day you’ll understand that i never planned and it was just because