Dominic Riccitello
Jun 28, 2026

i painted you to be

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in an oasis of tragedy behind the bars of what i call this i hold myself quietly inside chambers built from old fears rooms i visit more often than i should i feel the elevator hum the slow descent through numbered floors how we keep moving downward without realizing it at first and i tremble to think about everything i said only inside my head on nights like this where the edge feels closer than the ground beneath my feet the moon hangs above words the sky tilts softly and i can still feel the hilt of where you left this the sharp edge of memory resting comfortably inside me my stomach knots itself caught somewhere between who i was and who i still hope to become we divide ourselves into dozens of pieces hoping one of them survives hoping one version of us still belongs to the life we imagined together and i stack the bricks carefully hoping they build into something gentle a wall strong enough to protect me without becoming another prison because i cannot survive this version of goodbye twice we make moments from time i watch the clock the numbers flickering quietly changing without asking permission reminding me that everything moves forward even when i do not back and forth i go i know this song this melody this tone this single note too well it has lived inside me longer than i care to admit and i hold out the rope not because i need saving but because i wonder if you’ll hold the other end long enough for us to stop drifting apart i can still taste what we were memory is strange like that it makes heaven out of moments that may have only lasted seconds and so i etch i cement i paint a version of us that never fully existed yet because i painted it because i returned to it again and again i believed it the way artists begin believing their own colors the way memory softens what reality could not and maybe that’s what love does it doesn’t always preserve the truth sometimes it preserves the feeling instead and after all this time i still believe it meant something even if i’ll never have proof that you believed it too